


Vital Communication

by featheredschist



Series: Vital Communication [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Drama, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Graphic Description, M/M, Mental Abuse, Nightmares, Physical Abuse, Romance, Slow Build, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Violence, really a glacial build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 67,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featheredschist/pseuds/featheredschist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The opening strains to a relationship between Bruce Banner and Tony Stark. Rated M for who knows where my brain will go. A/U<br/>Tags will be added as chapters are uploaded. Warnings will definitely be applied to each chapter. Please, please read with caution!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first part to a larger arch called "Vital Communication" - it will be a relationship story, and cover not just Bruce and Tony, but several of the Avengers. Other one-shots will be added to the system as a whole.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, Disney, the Avengers or anything related. I am only playing in the sandbox. The only things I do own are plot (where visible) and OCs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hai there. I've cleaned this up a touch - fixed weird formatting, changed some phrasing, that kind of thing. I PROMISE you, on a stack of Cap's shields, that nothing of the story itself has changed. If there are still errors, please let me know! As always polite con crit is welcome, flames are ignored.

After the Chitauri Incursion, after Loki was returned to Asgard, there hadn't been much use for staying. But he did, because Tony Stark asked.

 

Granted unlimited lab access and gifted with a plush apartment suite he was nearly lost in, Bruce was completely overwhelmed the first few days. On the third, he was starting to settle and chose to catch up on the world that had passed him by. Tony found him later that day, sitting on the plush couch of the living room and reading the Journal of American Medicine index on a translucent tablet screen.

 

“Bruce!”, Tony called, knocking on the door, “Are you hiding in there?”

 

Bruce laughed, drawn out of his reading, “No, come in Tony.” 

Tony Stark strutted through the door, his trademark smirk fixed to his face. Bruce idly wondered what mischief he was concocting now.

 

“You haven't been to see the lab since you arrived! Something wrong with it?”, Tony vaguely felt insulted at the idea. 

He had stocked that lab with the latest equipment just to entice Banner and here the man was, hiding! In swank, modern accommodations, if he said so himself, taking a quick glance around the living room. Aside from the couch, there was a pair of dark colored leather arm chairs, with a coffee table nestled between the three pieces. The gas fireplace was currently unlit, leaving the fireplace screen dark in front of the space. A few artistic arrangements of paintings along a wall rounded out the modern look.

 

“I was catching up on some reading,” Bruce equivocated. Tony didn't need to know Bruce was having a hard time adjusting to this new life. 

Stark had everything, and had it for years. Bruce had had nothing but what he could carry, for as long as he could remember, even before Culver. Foremost man on physics and radiation aside, it was all because of the work he'd done, or he shuddered a bit, been forced to do, on himself, since then.

 

A snap of fingers brought him back to the present. “Hey, you were a million miles off there, man. You okay?”, Tony asked. Bruce just nodded. Tony's smirk lifted into a real smile then, “Good. Now, do you want to help me with some upgrades to the suit, or start your own stuff?”

“What are you trying to do with the suit?”, Bruce asked, intrigued.

“May I?”, Tony flicked a hand at one of the chairs across from Bruce's spot.

“Oh sure. My manners appears to have taken a vacation,” Bruce laughed self deprecatingly. Tony folded his lanky frame into the arm chair and propped his feet on the coffee table between them.

“Well, that whole space thing rattled me. I mean, Pepper, more than was obvious,” the slip didn't evade Bruce at all, but he ignored it, letting Tony save face, “She swore at me for an hour, wanting to know what I was going to do to fix it.” Here the billionaire genius shrugged, clearly at a loss. 

Stable relationships were not Stark's forte. Bruce could well imagine the fiery dynamo that handled Stark Industries' day to day operations and it's owner so ably, spending an hour verbally flaying strips from Stark's hide. Pepper Potts was as much a force of nature as her boss.

“I would need to know the current schema of the armor,” Bruce said. This was a huge step. Stark trusted no one with the technology of the Iron Man armor. And while Bruce had heard that there was a military suit out there, he didn't know the details. He hadn't dug far enough into the records available yet, and wasn't sure he would, with the word 'military' attached to the idea. The ball firmly in Tony's court, Bruce watched his associate's face to see if he discern his thoughts.

 

Tony was thinking of almost the same thing as Banner. With a few extras thrown in for good measure. Bruce was not Obadiah Stane, and had no interest, overt or covert in weaponizing Iron Man. Even Rhodey hadn't turned over the War Machine armor to his superior officers. Tony also knew that Banner had no personal use for the armor, given his 'green rage monster'. Each one of Hulk's appearances would destroy a suit like a frat boy flattening a beer can. Tony also thought that Bruce could be interested purely for the joy of working on a new project.

 

After what felt like an hour, but was truly only a few minutes, Tony said, “Sure. JARVIS, forward Dr. Banner all the records and data on the armor, ASAP.”

“All?”, Bruce clarified, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Clearer understanding towards the final product,” Tony shrugged again, not quite comfortable. But the slight edge of tension was there. He was trusting Banner, hoping for something, but not sure what he would get in return. 

“Should I sign a nondisclosure contract?”, Bruce offered, though it frankly galled him. Stark, no, Tony trusted him, and the Other Guy to live here, in a fragile peace amongst glass and metal and even more fragile lives. With that kind of trust, this early, yeah. He'd not give up the information on Iron Man short of dying. And that, was a non-starter.  
Tony waved the offer away, “Not necessary. Consider it tit for tat after we hacked SHIELD.” 

And Bruce knew what he meant. Tony knew everything in Bruce's files. His face scrunched up in dismay. He worried. And the big guy rumbled in the back of his head.

“Don't freak out, man. I don't know anyone with a white picket fence life. Just doesn't happen,” Tony explained. Bruce settled back, minutely relaxing. Tony watched his face, especially his eyes. While most people carried plain tension lines, Bruce Banner carried those and more. And Tony was determined to learn all the signs.

“So with access now, I bet you'll need another day or so to do the reading,” and Tony smirked again,  
“Which is good because Pep's tightened the work noose and I have to do business things.” 

He nearly sounded allergic, he was so aggrieved at the idea. It was why other people were always CEO. At least, people Tony trusted. He sighed a little bit, then surged out of his chair, and headed for the door at a brisk clip. 

“However, join me for dinner, say 7? We can go over any questions you have then,” he flung behind him, itching to be away.

Bruce was surprised and stuttered, “S, sure, I guess. Meet where?”

“Oh, here's fine. I'll bring something by. Tell JARVIS about any deadly allergies for me will ya? Ta!” 

And force of nature Tony was gone out the door. It thumped back into place, Bruce staring after the genius in bemusement.

 

After a full minute, Bruce shook himself from his reverie, and stood. “Well, no time like the present. First, lunch,” he said out loud. He made his way to the small kitchenette, which was honestly the size of most New York studio apartments. He pulled open the fridge and rummaged a bit more thoroughly than his previous forays. Someone had taken care to stock not just the basics, but things that would make Bruce's favorite recipes. A lot of information was in SHIELD's files.

That thought prompted him, “JARVIS?”, he asked, speaking to the room in general, knowing the AI would pick up his voice.

“Yes, Dr. Banner,” was the AI's immediate response.

“Inform Mr. Stark that I have no 'deadly allergies', or mild ones for that matter, please.”

“Right away sir,” the AI replied.

Bruce proceeded to make a vaguely Asian dish of fish and vegetables over rice. Balanced, but heavy on the 'brain food' end. He figured he'd need the protein. JARVIS neatly recorded what was made and in what portion size, cataloging the information ostensibly for restocking the apartment's pantry. But also gathering data points as a side request for Tony. Once Bruce had finished his meal and the clean up – rinsing and putting his plate and utensils in the dishwasher as he'd cleaned up after himself as he prepped his food – he made a preparation of green tea he'd found in a cupboard beside his stove on a tray, with an iron kettle also found there, and a small, delicate porcelain cup. He'd put a regular kettle on to boil, full to the brim; then went to wash up. The first boiled water went into the iron kettle to heat it and the regular kettle was refilled with hot tap water before being put to simmer.

Twenty minutes later, the iron pot was ready, so Bruce drained it and replaced it with the fresher hot water. The tin of tea powder, a whisk and tea cozy patterned in pale pink chrysanthemums found their way to the tea tray. The whole affair was moved to the coffee table and Bruce eschewed a chair in favor of a cushion on the floor.

 

He prepared his first cup slowly, contemplatively. Allowing his movements and breath to slow into the ancient practice he'd been shown years ago. It helped center his mind, as well as clear it. But it helped him do one vital, and secret thing.

 

Talk to the Hulk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - second verse, same as the first. And if I forgot the disclaimer, that means: I do not make any claims to Marvel, the Avengers, Disney, or these characters. Only owning my plot (where visible) and my OCs. Please don't sue me for having an overactive imagination! Reviews are welcome, flames are ignored.

He takes a slow, deep breath in, and holds it for a count of five, then exhales, equally slowly. After three repeats, Bruce finds his conscious awareness within the altered reality of his inner mind. This reality shows a small clearing in an old growth, hardwood forest. The trees are densely packed together, except in an area roughly 60-80 feet in diameter. Off to one side was a thatched roof, stone cottage with something like a barn door covering the entrance. Two stumps sat around the remains of a fire pit. One was average sized, likely from an oak or something similar. The other was much larger, and was probably from a sequoia Bruce had seen once.

 

He went to the smaller stump, and sat down, not saying a word. This was how it began between them. They each appear and sat down to wait. Time had no meaning.

 

Eventually the forest just...shifted...

 

While there was no visible movement, it was the same gut wrenching sensation reminiscent of a roller coaster drop that told Bruce He was here. “Banner,” came the grunt, as the large, viridian form of the Hulk settled on the other stump.  
“Hulk,” Bruce acknowledged, “We have a safe place to stay for now.” He always got straight to business while here in this place.  
“Good. Safe is good. Tin Man?”, Hulk responded.  
“Yes, with Tony Stark. But I think he'd like 'Tin Man'”, Bruce smiled at the idea. Hulk smiled back. They talked a bit more, confirming the parameters of safety and control they'd established years before Bruce left.

 

He'd finished just one cup of green tea the whole time he was within himself. And JARVIS only records Bruce enjoying some tea. All in all, about 10 minutes worth of footage.

 

Once the first cup was empty, he prepared another and then, “JARVIS, expand this window and let's begin deconstructing the Iron Man.”  
“Of course sir,” the AI clipped out and immediately complied. The translucent window trebled in size, then filled with files of scrolling data and dozens of images. Bruce settles even more on the cushion, and begins to read, occasionally flicking files back and forth over images for clarity. He sipped tea and learned about the suit that Tony Stark built.

 

Several hours later, JARVIS came back on. “Sir, Mr. Stark wanted me to remind you of your impending dinner engagement,” the AI intoned softly, breaking the doctor's concentration.  
“Oh, did he? Alright then. Is there anything I need to do now?”, Bruce brought himself back to the present.  
“Nothing is required, Dr. Banner, thank you,” JARVIS told him. Bruce just nodded and put the files on the Iron Man armor in the order he had questions. He then made to stand from the cushion when Tony knocked on the door and strode in.  
“Banner? What are you doing on the floor?” he asked, spotting the physicist's broad back across the room.  
“Oh you know, the usual,” Bruce's answer is flippant, but he didn't care. Using his knees, he backed away from the table and then flexed his toes for bracing to stand up. Banner turned to his new benefactor and took in the sight of Stark's business persona. He had left that morning in a band tee and faded jeans, but this evening found him wearing an expensive looking pair of black suit pants with creases Bruce assumed were sharp enough to cut veggies. Tony's white button down was broken by a loudly patterned tie of red and gold, and the sleeves were rolled up in a bid for casualness.  
Tony got a look at the now cold tea service situated in the center of the table. “So meditation over wet grass?”  
Bruce gave him a half smile. He picked up the tray and went to the kitchenette to put the tea things away. “Something like that,” he responded, “So where to?” He noticed Tony hadn't brought anything resembling food with him as he'd hinted at earlier that day.  
“Ah, thought we'd try one of the places here in Stark Tower, around level 8?”, Tony offered.  
“I guess. Beats going out into the city,” Bruce replied, moving towards the door. “Shall we go?”  
Tony nods, and they head out into the hall. Bruce pulled the door closed behind him. They walk down the hall to the elevator, not speaking, just enjoying a companionable silence. Once inside the elevator, Tony pushes the button for the 8th floor and they waited for the chrome box to move on it's journey.

 

“So, manage to get much reading done in between slurps of wet grass?”, Tony asked, snarkily.  
A corner of Bruce's mouth quirked up a little. “Yes actually,” he replied, “I have questions on some bioanalytics from the suit and reactor to establish a good baseline on you before moving on to any new ideas for improvements.”  
“Huh, okay. We can go over some of that during dinner. The reactor stuff we'll keep for later,” Tony allowed. He never gave out details on the arc reactor, maybe the larger one that powered half of lower Manhattan along with his building. But never the one that kept him alive.  
Bruce nodded, the movement clearly visible in the high shine of the chromed elevator car. Tony smirked in return. They arrived on level 8 and the elevator's door opened onto an open air mall of nothing but restaurants. Stark Industries paid good money to keep its employees happy, and that included good food available at most hours. There was such a variety, global really, and it caught Bruce by surprise.

 

“Damn Stark,” he whistled, “This is a hell of a perk here.”  
Tony's smirk got wider. “Yeah, brings all the boys and girls to the yard,” he quipped. That took Bruce a minute. Pop culture references less than 5 years old were harder for him to understand since the accident at Culver. He shook his head and moved out of the elevator, looking over his choices. He saw European cafes, and American dives, before settling on something southeast Asian. He pointed it out to Tony, “There okay?”  
Tony looked at the choice, “Hmpf, suppose so. Anything wrong with cheeseburgers?”  
“Nope, too heavy after all this time though,” Bruce answered calmly. Tony nodded thoughtfully and agreed, “Cheeseburgers another night then.”  
Bruce considered his compatriot closely. His usual quick wit was subdued for some reason, the sarcasm he carried and used as a weapon sheathed for the moment. He wondered if it was the subject at hand, or something else pressing on Stark's mind. Watching Stark's face as they cross the courtyard, he couldn't determine any new stressors, just the same ones lining his face and eyes. Bruce inwardly sighed and thought, 'I wonder how long this trust thing will go on. And when we'll end up screwing it up?' He felt the Hulk grumble in the back of mind and grinned a little. 'Something we'll talk about later Big Guy.'  
“Something funny there, Mean Green?”, Tony asked.  
“No, just thinking.”  
“Oh?”, Tony prompted.  
“Well, smiling at this new found freedom for one. I kinda like it, and hope I get to enjoy it awhile,” Bruce was a pessimist, always. He saw Tony's face fall into a frown, and he started to mutter, “We'll damned well see about that...”  
Bruce frowned, about to argue, but they'd arrived at their destination and changed topics back to something safer.

 

At this time of night, this and several other places had changed from a 'grab it and go' atmosphere to a more relaxed dine-in one, allowing the two scientists to take advantage of the seating arrangements to sit in a booth out of the way of the normal flow of people coming and going. SI usually had round the clock employees stationed in the tower working in various departments.

 

A young waitress dropped off menus and sparkling water, then disappeared for a few minutes. The menu was slightly heftier than the lunch boards hanging behind the counter. Bruce saw some Vietnamese dishes that looked good. Tony found some stir fry. The waitress took their orders, and returned with drinks. Tony elected to have coffee, since Bruce refused alcohol. The little restaurant had a good Lapsang souchong tea for him to try.

 

The dishes came to the table, and Bruce inhaled deeply of the wonderful aromas of the Banh can* and Banh tom* he'd ordered. “Perfect,” he murmured, reaching for the shell of lettuce to wrap around a crispy shrimp.  
“Interesting choices, Doctor,” Tony comments, picking up chopsticks for his chicken stir fry.  
“Favorites from that area. Now, bioanalytics,” Bruce said, after a good bite of the shrimp.  
“Sure, what in particular?” Tony slurped a few noodles waiting for Banner to formulate his questions.  
“The suit provides certain protections against the elements, and against gravitational forces. But, in the Chitauri Incident, you had issues with space that you want to overcome?”, Bruce explained.  
“Hm, yes. There's the basics, and the hermetic seal against most airborne contaminants and encounters. The HUD is linked with JARVIS, who does most of the primary monitoring.”  
Bruce smiled, “Leaving you to play cowboy, hm?”  
Tony's usual smirk bloomed into a full smile, teeth and all, “Aw, you figured out my secret!” he quietly exclaimed, clasping a hand melodramatically to his chest. Bruce rolled his eyes at the overreaching drama.  
Tony laughed and finished his dinner. He sipped his coffee while waiting for Bruce to finish his tea.  
“Answer me this Banner, do you always drink tea?”, he queried, honestly curious about the answer.  
Bruce hummed a little, enjoying a slow sip of the last of the tea he had ordered with his dinner. His smile should have been an answer, but he knew it wasn't enough, not for Tony Stark.  
“Less stimulating than most coffees, especially green and white teas, which are my preferences. Has nothing to do with the Other Guy, if that's what you 're wondering. Purely my own tastes,” was his answer. He felt the Hulk's grumble at the half truth. Both of them enjoyed the teas, but realized that Tony was not quite ready for the full weight of information about their level of cooperation. Bruce doubted that would ever happen. He trusted no one anymore.  
Tony nodded, “Good to know. I'll make sure JARVIS tells the staff about it so you don't run out down in R&D.” They finished up their meal and headed back to Bruce's apartment, high on level 30.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * (both) – Banh can – soup; Banh tom – fried shrimp and sweet potatoes, from Wikipedia


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - 3rd verse, same as the first. Please don't sue, I don't own anything but the plot. I promise.

Once there, they got into the nitty gritty of the questions Bruce had. Tony took advantage of the one featureless wall and had JARVIS project all the images they needed on the smooth vertical surface. Detailed images of the armor at life size appeared on the white wall, letting Bruce see some new things the smaller projection window hadn't had the capability to show him earlier.  
“What's this part here?”, he asked, pointing at an ankle junction. Tony moved in to peer at it.   
“JARVIS, increase magnification,” he demanded.  
“That is as large as I can get the image before it degrades, sir. This area is limited with my projection abilities.” The AI sounded apologetic. Bruce blinked, unsure that was possible for a construct.  
“Huh, didn't realize,” Tony muttered. “Well, shall we decamp to the lab then?”, he offered. Bruce turned owlish eyes on Tony this time. He'd figured at least another week before gaining admittance to the man's inner sanctorum.  
“Not about to look a gift particle accelerator in the 'mouth'!”, Bruce quipped. Tony honestly guffawed at that.  
“Bad science jokes! He speaks English, and now jokes! He's nearly human! Let's go! JARVIS, save and redisplay once we get to my lab,” Tony grabbed Bruce's shoulder and spun him 180 degrees to head back out the door. Before they got too far, Tony smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Dammit, nearly forgot! I've only got leaded juice up there. You should pack your own for now,” he said, pointing at the kitchen.  
Bruce understood immediately and headed for the cabinets. “Hm, if I had an electric kettle, I would just need bags and a mug,” he murmured out loud, looking for bagged tea, and an appropriately large mug for what he felt was sure to be a long night.  
“Dr. Banner?”, came the disembodied voice of the AI.  
“Hm?” was the distracted reply.  
“I believe I can procure an electric kettle from the restaurant level, as well as top off the potable supply of drinking water in the lab. It will be in the lab within the hour,” JARVIS explained, after quickly accessing his records and cross referencing them with the Stark Tower records on all supplies.  
“Ah, perfect! Thank you very much, JARVIS,” Bruce replied, very pleased. The AI might be more than a glorified butler, but he'd figure that out later. Taking a box of oolong, and a huge, merlot colored mug along with him, he joined Tony in the infamously secret, “private” Stark Lab.

They worked for a few hours until Pepper came looking for Tony. By this time, it was not quite midnight.  
“Tony? I'm headed for bed,” she said from the door of the lab. Bruce looked up, catching full view of a relaxed Pepper Potts. He had to reconcile this vision of feminine beauty with the highly motivated, killer CEO he knew from news reports. Her shoulder length, strawberry blond hair was hanging loose around her face, which was open of expression and devoid of makeup at this hour. A light smile lit up her blue eyes.  
“Pepper, you met Bruce yet?”, Tony asked, spinning away from the screens they sat before to face her.  
“Not formally, no. I was tied up the day he joined our family,” was her answer as she looked over at Banner. He knew the image he presented, a rumpled, shaggy professor type: clothes baggy and old, at least 2 days' growth of beard on his face. He started a bit over her use of the word 'family', not quite understanding how it was being used in this situation. Sure, he'd been nominally hired by Stark Industries, but Bruce felt it was part of the cover they were maintaining with SHIELD to keep him off the radar of the Army. He lost the chance for more contemplation as she determinedly moved forward, her right hand coming up, “Dr. Banner, a pleasure. Tony tells me that your work in the field of nuclear physics is unparalleled. I'm Pepper Potts,” she said.  
“Thank you. Ah, yes well,” Bruce shook her hand, using gentle pressure. He was slightly taken aback by the welcome. He could detect no fear from her. Quickly, he turned part of his thoughts inward and nudged the Hulk, 'This one, safe. Keep safe as well.' He got a grunt of acknowledgment, and he allowed himself a smile in return.  
“Ms. Potts, unparalleled only because it was life or death at the time. What you and Tony are doing with clean energy is truly fascinating. Thank you for finding me a spot here,” he replied.  
She looked into his earnest brown eyes during this, and could swear the color swirled to a pale tan, tinted almost hazel, just a tiny bit as he spoke to her. 'Must be a trick of the light,' she thought.  
“Please, call me Pepper. We'll be working together a lot, I imagine,” she told him as they broke off the handshake.  
“Then I insist on Bruce,” he informed her. Her resultant smile was truly beautiful to him in that instance.

Tony stood by and watched his two good, nearly best friends connect, and was pleased with himself. Though he'd probably hear from Pepper later about Banner's “rage monster”. “Good that you can get along with the fairer sex, Banner. She's right,” Tony started to say.  
“What?”, Bruce barked in surprise.  
“You'll be working exclusively with me, and with Pep, on projects of our choosing. On paper, you are a one man R&D section on upgrading and updating nuclear energy sources. IF,” Tony stressed the word dramatically, “I cared about the board of directors, you'd have to generate some stupid report once a year.” He rolled his eyes at this notion. “Since I don't, and you aren't really employed by SI, but me directly, we can dispense with that crap.”  
Bruce's expression was textbook for surprise. He'd honestly thought...well, that was new. Someone was going to let him play in a lab to his heart's content. That would take getting used to.  
Pepper turned to Tony, “So, are you on a lab bender, Tony?”  
Tony smirked at her, “Nah, we're just doing basic stuff. Bruce, we can pick this up tomorrow, right?” He looked at Banner, who shrugged as if to say, 'You're the boss'. “Good enough, let's blow this pop stand. JARVIS, save it all and shut it down. We'll pick it up tomorrow,” Tony informed the AI, who proceeded to clear up all the screens and start dimming the lights in the lab. Tony ushered the others out of the lab and back to the elevator.  
“Tony, you can't,” Pepper informed her boyfriend.  
“And why the hell not?”, he asked, perfunctorily. They arrived at the elevator that only ran from the garage beneath the building where Tony kept his cars to the penthouse.  
“Because we have a lot of Stark Industries work to catch up on, since the invasion,” Pepper reminded him, as if she was speaking to a 5 year old. She often felt that way, the way he avoided the hum-drum of normal business work.  
He tried to level a glare at her, but she was immune after several years of working for him and beside him. “Sorry Tony, but most of it deals with the clean up, and some of it is the clean energy work we need to get moving on,” Pepper refused to back down. This work needed Tony Stark to be visible, not have the company be represented by someone else.  
Tony sighed, “Fine. What time do we leave?”  
Pepper smiled, “Not til lunch. BUT,” she emphasized the point with an upheld finger, “You are not spending the morning in the lab!”  
“Ruin my fun!” Tony exclaimed, only a little hurt. Bruce watched their by-play, his heart a little bruised from missing Betty and the exchanges they once enjoyed. It had been too long, and he was glad she had moved on.

Tony swung his attention to the quiet doctor. “Hm, I know what. Dr. Banner, why don't you join me for this adventure?”, he dropped the idea like he'd drop a rock. It quite literally sank between them.  
Bruce stared, only slightly shocked. “Wouldn't it be best if I stayed here? Out of the public eye? Out of the Army's reach?”, he tried to equivocate.  
“Nah. You'll be doing Stark Industries work, so that means you're covered. SHIELD won't care. And the Army can...” Tony started to say.  
“Tony!”, Pepper broke in, knowing whatever he would say about the Army would be crude, and would probably embarrass Bruce.  
“What? They have no rights here, Pep. The legal eagles are looking into it, but on the surface, that's what we're seeing. But if it bugs Bruce so much, he can, ya know, not be on camera for any of it. I still want him there. Someone's got to be around to speak science with me,” Tony defended himself.  
Bruce sighed, he had a feeling he wasn't going to win this one.  
“Let's try this. You have the clean up to start with, right?”, he looked at Pepper for confirmation. She nodded. “Okay, then I can work on the armor, or catch up on reading all you've done so far with the clean energy ideas and experiments until you move on to that in a few weeks, and meet you wherever that starts up. Sound like a plan?” It was a hell of a compromise, and he was trusting in quite a bit. He was trusting that only Tony would be able to keep them out of trouble, and it wasn't something he had a lot of faith in. He hoped the junket didn't take them too far away from New York.  
Pepper immediately restored a bit of his faith, “Actually, that can work. The press junket is at a conference, and that will be on Long Island. You won't be far away at all.”  
“Good,” Bruce admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He was completely nervous, and nearly out of his depth. It had been too long since his last conference. Before...before.

Tony looked at Bruce, then at Pepper. He nodded, accepting the idea. It was enough for now. Something shifted between them then, perhaps, a fragile trust beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still the same as before; much as I love these guys, they probably don't love me, or the angsty crap I put them through. Do not own, please don't sue for an overactive imagination that needs a hamster wheel.

Bruce made his lonely way back to his apartment. Tony and Pepper had left him at the elevator, retreating to their own place at the top of the tower.

He needed to consider the revelations he'd been handed that evening. Stark wanted to employ him, keep them around for whatever humanitarian reason he could concoct that week. And for what? No discernible reason that Bruce could see. Engineering wasn't his thing. Sure, he could probably come up with new ways for the Iron Man suit to keep Stark safe, but really? Tony did just fine on his own. As for the nuclear power research. That idea was fascinating, but fraught with danger for him. While it was wonderful to entertain the idea of a life of research, Bruce knew as long as the Army still wanted him, wanted them. They weren't safe, staying in one place for too long.

He arrived back at his apartment and went in to collapse on the couch, deep in thought. He avoided the meditative state, knowing the Hulk would have no input to this situation beyond the usual concerns. No, Bruce had to figure this one out on his own.

"JARVIS, could you give me an overview of the contract I signed with Stark Industries?", Bruce asked the AI.

"Of course, Dr. Banner. Shall I display it on the wall, or put it on the tablet?", the AI's melodious voice answered promptly.

"The tablet is fine, thank you," Bruce said, reaching for the small pane of glass as it lit up with the incoming file. He scrolled through the contract information, finding nothing out of the ordinary in the language, except for the missing 'non-compete clause' as Tony had mentioned. That was definitely different, in his experience. It meant that whatever Bruce found, but hadn't published for SI, Inc. could be taken with him in the event that Banner and SI parted ways.

Even the benefits were in Bruce's favor. A high pay rate, higher than he'd ever gotten before, with an unusual clause for undisclosed back pay he'd have to discuss with Tony at some point. Health benefits he was sure to never need. The gamma radiation paid off weird dividends for his immune system, the complete opposite of someone who was normally afflicted with radiation poisoning of any kind. Or it was the successful part of the super soldier serum he'd been able to recreate in effect. He could never figure that out.

Eventually, he put the tablet down beside him, took off his glasses and rubbed his face, quite tired. All he could do at the moment was accept it and hope for the best. He finally went to bed, but dreamed of fear and uncertainty. His sleep was not restful.

Tony and Pepper retired to the penthouse bedroom and fell into bed.

"Tony, are you sure this will work out?", Pepper asked him, rolling onto her side to face him.

"He needs to feel safe, Pep. I think we can give him that. Besides," Tony smirked, pulling her close, "That sexy science brain needs peace and quiet to be let loose on the world. The changes he could accomplish!" He kissed her, silencing further protests. She sighed against his lips, and deepened the kiss. Somehow, this had to work out. Or neither man would survive the experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry it's so short y'all. It just would not go out past this point, and I didn't want to go off on a tangent that meant nothing to the overall feel of the story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: same as before - do not own, please don't sue for playing in the sandbox. It's so much fun! Trigger warnings go into effect starting now - things get a little grittier for a few chapters, so be careful. I will do my best to warn you it's coming, but I am not responsible for anything that happens as a result of reading my stories. I will adjust the warnings with the story as a whole.

Once they had finished with the last of the press junket, Tony and Bruce were free to return to the lab and 'play time'. They spent the next few days working on the Iron Man armor, completely dismantling it. Parts littered every surface in Tony's personal lab. Holographic models of those assembled parts hovered between the tables. Currently, they stood side by side in front of one of the projections, a boot.

“This is the problem I saw before,” Bruce said, pointing at the ankle.  
Tony reached into the holograph, grabbed the image and twisted, breaking it apart. The specific junction exploded into an expanded view, and the condition monitor went immediately from green to red.

“Wow, just from the tablet?”, Tony asked, surprised. The tablets had a fundamental low resolution problem he could never quite solve.  
“This spot has a critical line of hydraulics twinned with an odd group of sensors monitoring fitness levels, lactic acidosis, and hypoxia. The hydraulic line is very weak. Has been for the last three iterations of the suit,” Bruce explained, ignoring the half jibe.  
“If it blows, it will short out more than those sensors,” Tony takes up the explanation, sighing. “Well, that saves a crap ton of work, doesn't it?”

Bruce flicked a glance at his co-worker, a half smile curling at his mouth. “The hydraulics are important to that section, but we can move the sensors. JARVIS, can you take those sensors and line them up with the others? I want to study them all together later,” Bruce said, drawing the sensor cluster out of the junction and flicking it to aside. JARVIS took the set from there and moved it to join a growing group of other sensors on the far side of the lab.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, tousling the loose, salt and pepper curls and sighed. His tired, brown eyes sought out the clock and blinked in surprise. “Ah, Tony? Didn't you have some charity thing with Pepper tonight?” Bruce asked.  
“Wha?” Tony half articulated, busy with the physical pieces of the ankle joint, prodding the loose tubing that carried hydraulic fluid around the whole foot.  
“Tony!” Bruce reached over to grab him by the arm.

“Bruce! What?”, Tony snapped.  
“Pepper? Charity event?”, Bruce clipped out.  
“Oh damn, that's tonight? J-man, how much time?”, Tony nearly shouted at the AI.  
“Mr. Stark, you have 15 minutes before Ms Potts begins looking for you,” JARVIS responded.  
“Better get moving then, dammit all. Next time, I'm roping you into coming with us, Banner, make no mistake,” Tony grumbled, tossing the screwdriver to the table and practically storming from the lab.

“Yeah, there's a good idea, me, with the rage monster, at one of those balls,” Bruce muttered half-heartedly, once Tony'd left.  
“I know you Banner,” Tony stuck his head back in through the lab door, “If nothing else, things would be more lively with you around.” Bruce laughed and waved Tony away.

“JARVIS, save everything and shut it down. I'll take the sensor package to my tablet please. Can you tell me how crowded level 8 is right now?”, Bruce addressed the AI as he cleaned up from tinkering with the armor.  
“Of course sir. Level 8 is experiencing 60% of total capacity. Will you be going there, or back to your apartment?”, the AI informed him.  
Bruce sighed, drying his hands. “I can't hide forever, like a princess in a tower,” he muttered.  
“Very good, Dr. Banner,” was the soft response.

 

Instead of working over the sensors at dinner, Bruce chose to catch up on the news, and grabbed a copy of the Times on his way across the courtyard on level 8. What he didn't count on was the overwhelming feeling of being watched as he looked over his choices this night.

'What a time to be alone. We're supposed to be safe here', he grumbled to himself. He made a slow scan of the food court, trying to spot any anomalies in the room. He couldn't see anything different, but felt truly uncomfortable. The Hulk moved in his mind, not threatening his control, just shifting, ready as always. The courtyard looked normal, but Bruce had only been down there twice before. Once with Tony, once with a team from the R&D levels. His first solo trip, and he lacked confidence. He growled to himself, frustrated. He knew it wasn't agoraphobia, just plain anxiety at not having been in social situations like this in so long. Perhaps the early stages of that phobia. His work in Third World countries let him keep and maintain a certain distance from the populace. He saw only what appeared to be Stark Industries employees having dinner. A few were entertaining obvious outsiders, but no one glaringly different, or that would make Bruce uncomfortable. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and turned back to the elevators. Once there, he flashed his SI badge at the ID reader and it allowed him to punch the button for his level.

Only when the doors closed on Bruce inside the elevator, did he take a good, deep breath.  
“JARVIS?”, he whispered.  
“Sir?”, the AI was confused.  
“Check the entry logs and security tapes today for anyone unusual overstaying their welcome. Something nearly upset the Other Guy out there, and it wasn't the crowd. Inform Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts as well,” Bruce instructed, leaning on the half lie.  
“At once, sir. If it makes a difference, you have my apologies, sir,” JARVIS said, genuinely apologetic.  
“It's all right. You couldn't know, nor be everywhere at once,” Bruce left the elevator and headed for his apartment. Tired now, he didn't want to bother with cooking, but went to the kitchen anyway.

He considered the issue of safety outside of the labs that wouldn't insult him, or piss off the Hulk. It wasn't like they could be kept locked up. That eroded his control like nothing else.

He heated some canned soup kept in his cabinet for nights he was too tired for more elaborate preparations, and ate at the little cafe table. Suddenly drained of energy, he could barely finish and just left the dishes standing on the table and padded to the bedroom.

He stripped for the shower, addressing the AI as he went, “JARVIS, leave another message for Mr. Stark. Tell him we need to talk about a series of safety protocols for the Other Guy.”  
“Yes sir. If I may, I will include that message with the results of my search,” JARVIS agreed.  
“Sure, that's fine. I'm going to bed after this, so I won't need you for the rest of the night. Thanks JARVIS.” Bruce stepped into the shower, and tried to quell the slowly rising sense of disquiet.

A short time later, he turned off the water, toweled himself dry and pulled on sleeping pants. He got into bed and made himself comfortable under the sheet and comforter before closing his eyes and attempting to fall asleep.

 

Meanwhile, miles away at a glamorous high end hotel ball room, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts wined and dine with stars, socialites and other famous people over another boring fundraiser. Tony wasn't even sure what it was for. His phone chirped, alerting him to the incoming text message, making a frown briefly cross his face. He pulled the device from his pocket, gaining Pepper's attention from her conversation with an actor seated at their table.  
“Tony?”, she asked him. He held up a finger, prompting silence for just a moment while he queued up the text he'd received. He read it, the frown creeping back onto his face.  
“There's a problem back at the tower,” he said, looking up and locking gazes with Pepper.  
“Bruce?”, she whispered, a little afraid.  
“Indirectly. Security is getting involved, but JARVIS says he's safe and back at his place,” Tony replied.  
“Why wasn't I called directly?”, Pepper wondered, reaching for her clutch.

“Problems, Stark?” one of their table companions quipped. The table of famous people laughed, enjoying the idea of seeing Stark inconvenienced.  
“Nah, just an experiment I left running,” Tony shrugged indifference, the lie dripping from his tongue easily, “An intern sent me the results. It failed. Pep. I think I'm done for the night, how about you?” Tony brushed them off. He hated insincere people, and none of these people had ever cared for anything except for how much money he could throw at them.  
Pepper blinked at him for a split second, then turned on a fake, megawatt smile. “Sure Tony. We have an early morning in the office anyway,” she replied, wiping her mouth with her napkin before folding it next to her plate. Tony dropped his right on his plate, and stood, pushing his chair back. He helped Pepper out of her chair, mindful of her couture gown. The power couple stalked across the ballroom, heedless of any scene they presented, their minds already focusing on whatever problem awaited them.

Pepper quickly called Happy, asking for the limo to be brought around. Tony sent JARVIS a text, calling for the information his AI had assembled. Once in the car, their public personas shed, they got down to business.

Pepper called the head of security, and demanded an update, using the information Tony fed her from JARVIS's scans.  
“Why Mr. Thomas, were there 6 military personnel present in Stark Tower during operating hours today? There are no contracts or other outstanding business with anyone in the Armed Forces,” Pepper practically snarled into her phone. Tony thumbed through JARVIS's report, curious himself as to why so many were in the tower. Had the military figured out that Bruce was now staying there? Were they after him now?  
He inserted an earbud into his ear, and called his AI, “JARVIS, talk to me.”  
“Sir, Dr. Banner left the lab for level 8 to go to dinner. Once on level 8, security footage shows him getting increasingly uncomfortable before turning back to the elevators and badging for his floor. Then he asked me to message you about any unusual persons at the Tower and then safety protocols for the Hulk before arriving back to his apartment,” JARVIS explained.  
“What else does the security footage show?”, Tony asked, at the same time Pepper told the head of security, “Get all of the people those visitors were signed in to see, and bring them to conference room 10. I want to talk to them when I arrive. Do not tell them what it's about. Yes, recall them if they've gone home.”

They spent the rest of the ride back to Stark Tower coordinating a response to this test of the security net. Meanwhile, the object of concern suffered nightmares of fear, fighting, blood, loss, and flight; unaware of their efforts to protect him and everything Stark had built.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essential Warning for this Chapter: Trigger warnings for this one folks: mentions of abuse, nightmares, torture (not graphic). Read with caution. PS, the tense shift in this chapter is deliberate, and should only happen the once. I think. Just for the section in question, I've marked it if you want to skip it.

11:00pm  
Tony is angry, frustrated and confused. Two of those emotions he hates. Why was the military sniffing around the tower? Was it for Bruce? For the armor? He was tempted to roust Rhodey from wherever the Air Force had stashed him, but refrains, thinking he needs to handle this one alone.  
He paces in Pepper's office, snarling orders at JARVIS. He'd discarded the black tuxedo jacket as soon as they arrived, and was now rolling the cuffs of the pale blue silk shirt, bow tie also gone.

“Okay, change the security parameters. No inch of Stark Tower goes without an eyeball. We'll create Mini-mes for the clean floors. All of R&D goes into password lockdown starting 10 minutes ago. Personnel will use SSN as their passwords for now.”

Pepper snorts distractedly, knowing Tony would probably override the system regardless of whatever measures he put in place. Sometimes he was lazy that way. She scrolls through employee records, scanning for a common thread, if any, for why there was a military presence in her tower.

“New measures implemented sir. The password system needs another hour to go live, so I have taken the liberty of locking down the R&D levels,” JARVIS informs his maker. Tony's face takes on a grim and feral smile. Pepper types notes into her own tablet, finding interesting information on the 8 people who had been visited by the military. He settles uneasily in a chair beside her desk.

“Tony, you should help me with the meeting with Jason Thomas. I have this proposal to give to all the department managers later,” Pepper breaks into his thoughts, giving him a piece of paper with a short statement on it.  
“You'll give this in the morning?”, Tony asks, scanning it quickly before dropping it to her desk. She nods.  
Tony asks another question, “And Thomas?”  
“Do you want him fired?”, Pepper bluntly asks him in return.  
“Can we replace him?”  
“Not right now.”  
“Damn. We could use our spy friends,” Tony gets up to pace again, one hand scrubbing through his hair, the only other visible sign of his own nerves.  
“Can you contact them without getting Fury involved?”, Pepper asks. She still had a cell number for when Natasha was her assistant, but was unsure it was valid anymore.  
“Maybe. JARVIS, do we have a super secret code?”, Tony flips the query.  
“I will attempt to track down Ms. Romanov. Do you also wish me to find the rest of the Avengers?”  
“Might as well,” Tony shrugs, “Invited them to a...” Tony looks at Pepper for help.  
“Well, you wanted to redo the mansion for 'team activities'. Get their input,” Pepper reminds him.  
“Go with that, J-man,” Tony agrees.

They spend a few minutes in silence, then...

“Mister Stark, you are needed on level 30. Dr. Banner appears to be in distress,” JARVIS cuts in. Tony surges out of the office before the AI stops speaking. “Any green present?”, he yells, running for the private elevator that ran straight to the penthouse.  
“No sir, not yet,” JARVIS opens the elevator doors just as Tony hits them.  
“Priority override, JARVIS, get this bucket up to 30, NOW!”, Tony demands, anxiously bouncing on his toes. The elevator shifts as JARVIS took rare control and forces it upward more quickly than normal.

11:30pm **Warning, potentially graphic material ahead**  
Upstairs, away in his own hell, Bruce is lost in nightmares. Images of an old, uncontrolled rampage skittered across his mind's eye. The Hulk watches from his place, impotently raging, desiring control, knowing it was unsafe to wrest it away.

Something had triggered them, and these memories of pain and fire. The memories were filled with so much pain – Betty's sad, sad eyes; her still form covered in medical ephemera; Rick Jones walking away, head bowed. Each image came with wrenching heart break, and howls of loss.  
Darker, older memories bubbled to the surface, the one of the death of his mother at the hands of his abusive father. Earlier scenes of her attempting to cover the signs of the marks he left on her body. One, slightly satisfying and grim memory of a visit to a lonely grave and the yelling/thrown punch from his then drunk of a father. He'd dodged, and was rewarded by Fate who saw fit to balance the scales. The man went down, slipping on wet grass. Bruce, a fit of blind rage overtaking him in that moment, jumped on him and grasped his head. He slammed it down, hearing a dull, sick crack where bone met granite. The disgusting being he'd known as “Father” trembled once, and lay still. The adrenaline flushed from his system, leaving Bruce nearly too weak to move after that. But he did, going back to school, leaving the cooling body to be found by the cemetary's caretaker at dusk. The police in town washed their hands of it.

Bruce groans in his sleep, tossing across the wide expanse of bed, sheets tangling around his writhing form.

 

Memories of the last encounter with the military replace the rampage. Images filled with blood skate into his mind. His time working for the Army is coated in blood, the majority of it his own. After the Incident where the Hulk was 'born', too many subsequent run-ins taught Bruce a level of fear and avoidance his father had never succeeded in. Experiments his captors carried out on him, testing his ability to heal from any injury. It had made him glad that his work overseas was never in pristine conditions similar to First World medical establishments. He had felt a surge of fear just from being in any sterile environment and it was a test of his control at first to hide those reactions.

Several experiments tested how well he handled healing from impalement – multiple locations; degloving – small and large areas; trepanning; multiple broke bones; exsanguination; asphyxiation. Everything done to him was nothing short of experimenting on a lab animal, or dozens. Nothing that came close to being humane in dealing with the 'lab accident'.

Memories of long torture sessions, forced transformations and bitter laughter finally forces Bruce awake, screaming. His voice deep and guttural, almost Hulk deep. His eyes mostly emerald green as that being tries to force his way out in an attempt to protect their fragile peace.

 

**End triggery content**

 

Tony hears the scream two floors down. “Dammit JARVIS, get this bucket moving faster!”, he cries. The AI silently complies. In a calmer moment, Tony might wonder at that, but for now, his focus is on Bruce.

 

Bruce tries to jump from the bed and throw himself across the room, but the tangled sheets around his legs arrests most of the movement. He falls face first to the carpet, and cries out from the surprise knock to his nose. It wasn't enough of a distraction though, it just had Hulk surging even further to the fore, snapping more of Bruce's control. Bruce roars, straining his vocal cords. His skin taking on a distinct green, strained, overly muscled look.

11:45pm  
Tony hits the door of the apartment, slamming it open to rush through and fall to his knees beside Bruce on the floor of the bedroom.  
“Bruce! I'm here, it's okay. You're safe, I swear!”, Tony cries urgently, grabbing the physicist's arms. Bruce jerks, his enhanced strength more than enough to break Tony's grip.  
“Tony, no!”, he growls, voice so deep it was animalistic in Tony's ears.  
“Yes Bruce. I'm staying. Go head, let Mean Green out if it'll help, but I'm not going anywhere,” Tony is adamant, reaching again for his friend. 

Bruce's incredibly bright green eyes snap to his own brown ones. “You're a reckless fool, Tin Man,” the words were half Bruce and half Hulk, and part of Tony's mind whirl with fascination at this new layer to Robert Bruce Banner.  
“Just do it already, Banner,” Tony snarks, holding onto a shoulder. Bruce grunts, then lets go, the change ripping through him with no subtly. The sleep pants just shred and hang, tattered from the Hulk's waist as the large green being takes form in front of Tony. His hand having slipped off Banner's shoulder during the shift, he holds completely still in an instinctive nod toward self-preservation, waiting for awareness to come.

Hulk growls a little, his head clearly touching the ceiling of the bedroom. He sniffs a few times, trying to orient himself and establish any outside threats. Easily he catches Banner's smells: lemongrass, old paper, tea leaves, spices.  
Then he catches new ones: hydraulic fluid, sweat, motor oil, solder, alcohol, metal, man. He turns in place, breathing deep, taking in huge lungsful of air to firmly press these scents into his memory.  
“Tin Man,” he grunts, laying apple green eyes on Tony, who crouches on the floor before him.  
Tony looks up and smiles, in what he hopes is a disarming smile, “Yup, it's me. How are you, Big Green?”  
Hulk grunts a laugh. To Tony, it sounds like rocks rubbing together. Tony is the only one to ever not treat him automatically as a monster right from the start.  
“Banner worried. Thinks not safe now,” Hulk grinds out, arms tensing, hands clenching into fists.  
“We know. We're attempting to fix it now,” Tony explains staying close to floor.  
“We?”, Hulk asks. He knew Banner had been asleep, so wondered who else Tony was talking about.

'Damn', Tony thinks quickly. “You probably don't know Pepper yet. She's our friend, Bruce's and mine. And she can help keep you two safe,” he tries. Without Pepper actually with him, it was a risk to talk about her, but he had to take the chance he could explain who Pepper was. Hulk was smart, he knew that.  
“Safe,” Hulk says, remembering a flash of red hair, the scent of fresh flowers.  
“Yes, she is. And she wants to make sure you stay safe as well, all right?”, Tony says, going to his knees on the floor. “Want to sit with me, or break things?” Tony wonders, though he truly wonders where they'd go if the answer is “Break stuff”.  
Hulk thinks for a long moment. “Will sit,” he agrees finally, and thuds to the floor like a four year old. Tony was glad for the reinforced construction of the building at this and all upper levels when he only feels the slightest vibrations.

12:00am  
“Can you tell me what happened? Or let Bruce out to explain?”, Tony asks him after several minutes pass in companionable silence. Hulk huffs, but knowing there's no danger, and no need to protect Banner from Stark, right now, feels no choice but to recall the doctor and have him face down the Tin Man's questions. So, without answering Tony, Hulk closes his apple green eyes, mentally snarls at Banner within the mindscape, and triggers the change.

 

The change catches Tony by surprise, but he watches the reverse transformation with the same fascination he's held thus far, wishing he could ask JARVIS to record, or even IF he's been recording.

“Aurgh!”, Bruce cries out, coming back to himself once the reversal had completed. His much smaller form has toppled over on one side, letting him curl up in a fetal position from the pain of 2 quick succession transformations. Tony let out a low whistle, “That was impressive, Banner. The videos don't do the change justice, you know.”  
Bruce flinches, more cold than a loss of clothes would ever account for. He curls up tighter on himself.  
“Go away, Tony,” he grits out, wishing to be alone.  
“Ah, no. Not leaving. Told you that,” Tony replies haughtily, getting up and heading to a bureau where he rummages for a new pair of pants.

Bruce hears the movements the other man makes, the soft steps across the plush carpet, drawers in the bureau sliding as he looks for clothing. He wonders at Tony's continued presence.  
“Here,” Tony tosses the new pair at Bruce, who doesn't catch them. They fall in a tangled heap over his side. “Can you get up, or do you need help?” Tony bends over to look at Bruce's face. Bruce groans, turning his face into the pile underneath him.  
“Yeah, give me a hand, if you'll just stop,” he says quietly, extending a trembling hand. Tony grasps it and hauls Bruce to his feet. Bruce stumbles reaching vertical, clutching the pants in his other hand.

“Right, let me change. Then, living room. Can you manage to boil water for tea? And see if there's something a touch stronger in the cupboards for a shot or two?”, Bruce informs Tony, who stares at him a little, then nods. The two men split up, one for the kitchen, the other for the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We're at the end of the present tense stuff, I only have one more time notation, and that is just to mark a corresponding time with the next scene. All phone/computer texts are in ITALICS. If an actual conversation happens, each name precedes their particular comment. (Or would be, if the system would work! So I'll just stick an asterisk in it and make note)  
> Standard disclaimer applies.

**12:15 am**  
Pepper received a text from Tony 45 minutes later: _Banner crisis mostly averted, no damage. Need to stay. Can you handle other side?*_  
She sent back an affirmative and a wish toward success and got back to work.

An hour later, Pepper heads to Conference Room 10, heels clicking a smooth, firm rhythm, soothing the anger she felt. Settling the rising fear in the back of her mind that the safety of her home had been breached, she entered the conference room, nine people sat waiting on her, eyes pinned to the door. Eight of them flinched when she walked in, sparkling ball gown catching the harsh fluorescent lights. Certain spangles and sequins turn back the light in a blinding fashion. This was calculated. Let them know that not just their night was interrupted. Tactics 101, really.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen. Let's take this from the beginning. You're all here to go over a security breach, and one by one, will be meeting with me next door to discuss details. After that, well, we'll see,” Pepper spoke slowly, meeting each person's eyes as she did. Feeling out each one, trying to figure their angles, their stories. Several flinch again and she barely conceals the hardening look in her eyes.

“We'll start with Tandy Alma,” she says and turns from the door, expecting the named employee to up and follow like a dog. Which, the woman does, silently. They enter the next room, lights coming on automatically just from their presence. Pepper points at a chair, commands, “Sit” and the woman does this. Pepper chooses another seat, but not the head. She touches the glass covered top and it glows to life. The woman's employment records scroll up, each disciplinary action, performance review, and random note from any project and team leader laid out before her.

“Okay Tandy, tell me what happened. Why did you get a visit from Army Lieutenant Tim Littlesmith today at 2:30 pm?”, she was precise and cold. She was Mamma Bear, defending her home. Tony deserved no less, and she had a feeling Bruce needed it as well.  
Tandy took a solid, long look at the CEO of Stark Industries and talked, “Lt Littlesmith is an ex-boyfriend. He came to talk to me today. At first it was the usual relationship stuff. Then somehow we got onto military contracts. Tim asked me if there were any active ones at SI. I said I didn't know...” Pepper holds her hand up, stopping the other woman.  
“You do remember SI policy on discussing the status of contracts with outsiders, correct?”, she softly asks, steel in her voice.  
“Yes ma'am,” Tandy answers.  
“Go on,” Pepper encourages.  
“Tim wanted to know when we'd taken on science experiments. I asked him what he meant. That's when he brought up Dr Banner. I only told him that Dr Banner was now employed here.” Pepper's eyes tightened even further, the corners twitching as the only visible signs of her increasing anger. Tandy gulped in sudden fear, zebra to Pepper's lioness and stopped talking.  
“Here's what is going to happen. For our records, you will write down everything that happened between you and the Lieutenant. Then you will leave here and go pack up your office,” Pepper typed a request to security; requesting two men to meet Ms Alma at the elevator.  
“Yes Ms Potts,” Tandy Alma said, sadly. She'd enjoyed her time at SI. But the contract she'd signed five years earlier was clear. You never talk about other contract statuses, and especially never confirm high profile employees or consultants.  
Pepper gave one consolation, “Your department manager will likely send a recommendation along later.”  
The other woman nodded as she stood, preparing to leave the room. “For what it's worth Ms Potts, I'm sorry.” And the woman left.

Pepper blew out a breath when Tandy Alma was gone. That would have been the easiest of the exit interviews she was conducting that night. The other seven tried to bargain for privileges and perceived rights they didn't have. Two had tried to negotiate through the hard tactic of “well, the military is offering me a better job for what I know”. That just got the interview cut short and them out of Pepper's hair faster.

Then she talked to the head of the security division, Jason Thomas. 

“Jason, thank you for your help tonight,” she began, indicating a chair across from her. The last man entered the room and cross to the table and sat stiffly in the chair. He was all of 5' nothing, and was an unremarkable individual of brown hair, and hazel eyes. Only his supposed talents in security had won him this contract, but Pepper wanted to change that.  
He looked his boss in the eye, “I'm sorry Ms Potts, we're not sure where the slip happened.”  
“I do, and the holes are being patched. Mr Stark is implementing new security measures for the research departments. I want stricter in/out policies instituted in the lobby. And we're going to tighten security on Level 8 until further notice,” Pepper explained, her voice clipped and frosty. While they couldn't fire this man yet, they were going to make sure he did his damn job, or never worked in security, or as anything more than a burger flipper ever again.  
“I will get with my team and have some new measures on your desk by lunch, if that will suffice, Ms Potts?”, Jason answered. He knew he was on thin ice, being ultimately responsible for his team.  
“You do that. I have a meeting with all the department heads at 8:30, I want you there as well as at the board meeting,” she informed him. She hoped Tony would be able to attend. It was rare, but occasionally necessary for him to put in appearances.  
“Yes ma'am. If that's all?”, Jason said, looking to get started. She flicked a hand, dismissing him from the room and her primary thoughts. He stood, bowed, and left, quickly.

Once the door closed behind the man, Pepper sighed and dropped her head in her hands, rubbing her temples fitfully. She wondered if this was now going to be part of her daily routine, staving off security threats for more than just Tony. The tabletop interface in front of her chirped a warning note, indicating a verbal message was waiting for her. She tapped an icon, allowing the message to play.  
“Blackhawk in receipt of query. Touchdown in 12 hours,” came the welcome voice of Natasha Romanov. Pepper smiled a genuine smile at that. The combined code name meant they were together, she and Hawkeye. Good.  
“JARVIS,” Pepper spoke to the tabletop.  
“Yes Ms Potts,” the AI sounded slightly tinny through the small speaker. She made a note to tell Tony to increase JARVIS' presence as he wished in all rooms any of them were likely to spend time in.  
“Any luck contacting Captain Rogers?”  
“I've managed to leave a message for him, extending Mr Stark's invitation.”  
“That's good. And Thor?”  
“Is not with Dr Foster at this time. I've taken to monitoring the weather patterns across the globe to see if he might be present somewhere else.”  
“All right. I'm going up for a bath and a nap. Please inform Tony if he tries to find me. And set a wake-up for 7AM,” Pepper finalized her plans with the AI and tiredly stood to leave the room she'd commandeered for the exit interviews. She sighed again. Eight promising careers ended that night because the military couldn't keep it's nose out of other people's lives.

Mentally, she went over her ideas for helping Bruce maintain his freedom. She'd have to stoke up Legal later in the morning. There were a couple of former JAG officers in the department she was sure could be of assistance. Once at the private elevator, she reached up to unpin her hair, shaking it out as she did so, then slipped out of her shoes.

A man like Tony Stark had few friends, and she knew what Bruce represented the moment she'd seen Tony's message to “Hire this man, yesterday!” on her phone two weeks ago. She'd bent Stark Industries policy, and had bypassed their rule about a background check. She'd known the physicist had helped with the Chitauri Incursion, but hadn't quite connected the dots about the Hulk until confronted with the Loki shaped hole in the living room floor Tony wanted to preserve. Their argument that night was spectacular, forcing Tony to hole up in his lab, while Pepper broke crystal glassware in frustration. She'd gone ahead with Tony's desires anyway, because she'd only seen him that excited a few times before, and never over another human being.

It made her wonder if Tony wasn't the slightest bit infatuated with Bruce. Oh definitely with the man's intelligence, but the man himself? That would take thought and observation. And deciding where she stood on the issue.

She arrived at the penthouse and padding in stocking feet to the bathroom, shedding the designer dress along the way. She knew one of the butler robots would be along to rehang it later. In the bathroom, she started water in the tub, and dropped some of her favorite bubble bath in to foam up. While she waited for the water to rise, she finished undressing. She finally slipped into her bath, and put her current worries aside for awhile, letting her mind go idle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - this is where the italics were supposed to go, and it is a text conversation or single comment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard Disclaimer Applies; AN: still the same night, folks, it's almost over; any product named herein does not belong to the author (Maker's Mark, et al).

Tony left Bruce in the bedroom and went to the kitchen.

"JARVIS, we stocked this place with alcohol, right?", he asked the ever present AI.

"It should be in the third cabinet to the right, from the stove, sir," was the crisp reply. Tony nodded and went directly there. He opened the cabinet door and found a bottle of Maker's Mark.

'That'll do', he thought, taking it and a pair of tumblers down. He also rooted around for the coffee pot and hauled it out onto the counter. Hiding in the back of the freezer was a bag of dark roast beans. Tony was surprised to find two coffee grinders, but luckily grabbed the one that didn't have a dusty film on the inside of the lid*. He refilled the kettle off the stove, and started it heating when the coffee began perking.

He checked the clock, 12am. He and Pepper had been out at the dinner for only a few hours before being called back. Tony hoped Bruce would let him help with this problem and choose not to bolt when he learned of the military sniffing around. At that moment, they weren't sure WHY the military had been in Stark Tower that day. That was what Pepper was working on.

The coffee finished brewing just as the kettle began to whistle, forcing Tony from his thoughts. He turned off the stovetop burner and moved the kettle, then fixed himself a cup of coffee. He left the bourbon alone. Sipping from the mug he'd made, Tony turned to lean on the counter and waited for Bruce to make an appearance, and he became lost in thoughts of improving safety.

While Stark puttered domestically around his kitchen, Bruce was in the bathroom, trying to shore up his raw, shattered nerves and find a way to buoy up his rapidly waning strength. Quick changes like he'd just had took almost every ounce of strength and endurance he possessed and just flushed it from his system.

He sat, trembling, on the lidded toilet, just breathing. The Hulk rumbled in the back of his mind. 'Run?' came clearly from that quarter. "I don't think so. Not yet," Bruce whispered out loud. 'Don't want to run' Hulk grumbled.

"I know, but if we aren't safe, or can't keep these people safe."

'Understand. Tell Tin Man?' "Yes"

'Everything?' and the Hulk was worriedly cautious. Bruce shared that, "Maybe". Hulk had to be satisfied with that. They needed someone to trust, tired of being alone. But was Tony that person? Their friendship was probably too new to tell. Bruce sighed, scrubbing his hands through his sweat soaked hair. He wanted a shower, but realized he'd only be delaying Tony's rest if he took it before talking to the man. He stood up and shucked off the torn pants only to step into the new ones, grateful to go commando because of his 'rage monster'. He turned on the cold water tap and splashed water on his stubble covered cheeks. He peered at his image in the mirror, seeing the tired, old loneliness staring back. Briefly his eyes lightened, fading from chocolate, to honey, to hazel, a reminder he was never truly alone. When his eyes faded back, he felt comfortable enough to leave the bathroom.

Joining Tony in the kitchen, he puttered long enough to test the water in the kettle and make tea. He then nudged Tony out of the kitchen and back to the living room where they sat on an opposite ends of the couch. Bruce sipped at his mug, letting the tea soothe the both of them. Tony sat and carefully avoided staring. Bruce sighed, setting his mug on the coffee table. He turned to face Tony.

"This isn't easy," he started, "Trust isn't, I mean." His hands clenched together, fingers knotted, knuckles white.

Tony snorted a laugh. "I know from trust issues," he replied cockily. Bruce didn't react. He stared into a middle distance lost in thought. Tony stared at his friend's face, noticing the worry etched there. He would remove that worry if he could. Such a genius brain as Banner had, should lead as carefree a life as he himself led. Or tried to anyway. But how to convince the man?

Bruce looked at Tony, trying to formulate the right way to tell him about the nightmares, and thus, his past.

"This was..." he paused, breathing slowly, and deeply, his nostrils flaring. Tony was captivated by the slow movement of Bruce's bare chest expanding and contracting, the curly thatch of chest hair catching most of his attention. 'Damn, stop that, Stark. Bad timing, if I do say so. Pepper would skewer me', the thoughts rattled him. Bruce doesn't notice his uncomfortable shifting.

Bruce tries again, rubbing a hand over his face and into his hair. "Whatever happened downstairs triggered nightmares. Stuff out of my past. The Other Guy, he's...we've not been treated well," Bruce trails off on that last part. For all he knows, some of the details of the experiments are in his SHIELD file. Tony's eyes widen a fraction.

"Experiments?", he whispers, barely breathing. Bruce just nods. Tony's capacity for memorization is good, so yes, the experiments were in his file.

"Damn" is an explosive sound from Tony as he collapses in on himself. At first, that information felt so far away. As if they had occurred to someone else. Then he'd met Banner, and all that information slammed to the forefront of his mind and gained a singular clarity on par with his memories of the cave. Bruce can't look at Tony now, wondering how badly altered the whole affair is. He shifts, uncomfortable in the new silence that stretches between them.

Tony finishes his coffee, pushes the empty mug onto the coffee table and scrubs through his hair, thinking. "How much do you know about how I got the arc reactor?", he asks. It never appeared in the papers, just that he'd gone missing for three months and been found. Bruce can only shake his head, denying any knowledge.

"When I went missing in Afghanistan. Was demonstrating the Jericho system when the convoy was attacked," Tony started explaining, his voice quiet. It had Bruce concentrating on Tony, watching his lips form the words. Tony's face was closed off, eyes pinched from tension.

"I was held by the Ten Rings for three months. It was their attack, with MY weapons," Tony stopped, closing his eyes against the flood of memories. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

Bruce suddenly got up, startling the other man. But he only went back to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Maker's Mark. He left the tumblers on the counter. On his way back, he opened the bottle, striping the wax off the top quickly and efficiently.

"I think we could use this," he said, pouring half a mug's worth into Tony's, then the same into his. Tony grimaced, knowing he was right, but Pepper'd kill him for showing up drunk in the morning.

"JARVIS, where's Pepper?", Tony quietly asked his AI.

"She has gone to bed, sir," was the equally quiet reply. Tony nodded, picking up his mug and swallowing half the amount in one go. It burned, it always did. But it never helped. Not even during the palladium days. Bruce just sipped at his, knowing his metabolism would burn through it faster, than a normal man's metabolism.

"What happened?", Bruce prompted, after several minutes had passed.

Tony refilled his mug, topping it off this time, trying to find a little liquid courage before answering. After a couple more swallows of the whiskey, he answered the physicist.

"The attack injured me. Badly as it turns out." Bruce nodded. The arc reactor's schematics made that plain.

"I had help, but the first time. The first time, I was hooked up to a car battery for power," Tony lost himself in his memories. Waking up to Yinsen, the exposed wires trailing from the gaping hole in his chest. The torture, fear, and adrenaline as constant companions with the desert heat and shouting, angry captors.

Bruce watched Tony, who sat in the corner of the couch, trying to wage yet another battle with his demons. The handsome face twitched occasionally from whatever memory flitted through his head. Bruce dropped his gaze, focusing on the mug half full of whiskey in his hand.

"Seems we both have demons," he whispered, taking a deep swallow of the Maker's Mark. His low baritone made Tony jump a bit, breaking through the memories for just a moment.

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it? Two amazing guys like us?", Tony quipped, coming back to himself a little bit.

Bruce huffed a laughed, not really meaning it. "If you say so."

"So enough doom and gloom," Tony forced some cheerfulness into his voice. "Want to go over those schematics?"

Bruce look at this genius engineer for a moment. "Maybe, but food is a bigger priority after transforming. Big Guy takes a lot out of me," he admitted. That got Tony's attention. Science, real science on the Hulk, was a guaranteed grabber for him.

"Do you know anything about what those truly do to you? Not what the Army did, that's all crap," Tony was getting excited. While going on about his armor was a passion, having a "new toy" to "play" with was always more fun.

"Heh, no. Getting control of the transformations was more of a priority than knowing the details of how hard they were on me," Bruce said, a bit of a laugh filtering through his words.

Tony suddenly slapped a hand onto a thigh, "Dammit!"

Bruce nearly came out of his skin at the sudden change in his friend.

"What?", he stuttered, trying to stop his racing heart. Luckily the Hulk remained disinterested.

"JARVIS can record most things for biometrics, but I don't currently have a lab set up for anything in-depth," Tony bemoaned.

"Which is a good idea!", Bruce insisted, putting his mug back on the table, alcohol largely ignored.

"How so?", Tony demanded, turning to face the other scientist.

"The whole 'lab rat' thing, Tony. If the Other Guy thought there was a problem..." he left the implied threat hanging.

"Is that all? Pfft," Tony dismissed Bruce's valid concerns.

"Your lack of sense on this doesn't mean I'll agree. First," Bruce ticked off his points with his fingers, "the Hulk is a BIG problem. Second," another finger, "no lab. Third," another finger, "We need safety protocols. And last but not least, can we just get past this first?" He didn't mean to sound whiny on that part, but he was starting to get hungry at that point, it was affecting his thought processes.

Tony grinned, "Fine, fine. But you'll see. I can meet each of those problems, easily. We can deal with the last, first. Want to go out?"

Bruce shook his head, but agreed in theory that Tony would be able to deal with most of the problems.

"Is there a good diner around here?", Bruce asked him, revealing their desire for greasy food.

"Diner food, huh? JARVIS?", Tony deflected the question.

"Map index shows a 24 hour diner about 5 miles from the Tower, Dr Banner, if that will suffice?" JARVIS answered.

"Too far to walk at this hour," Bruce muttered, considering the kitchen behind him.

"Who said anything about walking? Finish getting dressed, Doctor, and we'll go," Tony waved a hand at him, prompting Bruce to get up and find a clean shirt and a pair of shoes.

Before they left Bruce's apartment, Tony grasped the other scientist's arm, their eyes met.

"Look, Pepper and I, we're looking into this. Security found holes, we're patching them," Tony said, trying to convey how earnest he was. Bruce watched his face carefully, looking for signs that Tony might be hiding something.

"A few employees had unauthorized visitors from the military, and it appears they may know you're staying here," Tony went on. Bruce flinched, ready to withdraw, except for Tony's tight grip on his arm.

"Bruce, I swear, they cannot get you from here. But you have to trust me, okay?", Tony wanted Banner to stay, to get him to relax and enjoy life again.

"Tony," Bruce wanted to tell Stark it would be a futile effort, and that it never worked out for anyone in the long run. But the earnestness in the other man's face, coupled with the full on warmth in his eyes just held hard to Bruce like someone had handcuffed him in place. He sighed, and knew the Hulk would prefer to stay where there was even a slim chance at safety than running for it and taking their chances in the greater world.

Tony looked at him, brown eyes full of hope and dreams.

"Tony, I can only promise to give it a try. General Ross does not give up, ever. We will have to work on some measures to keep tabs on me, the Other Guy and everyone safe," Bruce finally told him, twisting out of Tony's grip enough to take his hand to emphasize his points.

Tony's heart did a bit of a flip when Bruce's thick, strong fingers closed around his own longer, thinner ones. Bruce didn't notice the mild stutter in Tony's pulse as it leapt forward like a racehorse from the starting gate.

"Okay," Tony smiles. For once, it's a real one, not one of his 'devil may care' trademark smirks, or one of the fake, plastic smiles he used for the media. And this one warms both Bruce and Hulk, all the way to the very core of their heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - Foodies use coffee grinders to grind whole spices, as well as coffee beans. It plain makes sense to maintain 2 of them to not co-mingle the flavors!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard disclaimer applies. Phone texting shows up as italics, with only the name of the person the text to indicate who sends what.

They finally leave and head for the diner, eating and enjoying greasy food and terrible coffee. They talked about wild ideas for a Hulk room til dawn. As they head back to the Tower, Bruce glances at Tony and says, “While you are working with Pepper today, I'll sketch some ideas out. Some of those we talked about earlier weren't too bad.” Because the Hulk had liked them, he doesn't say. Their connection had allowed Hulk to listen in during the flurry of exchanges, and some had indeed caught his attention. It still didn't feel right to bring up that connection, though he knew that would have to be soon.  
Tony nods. “JARVIS sent messages out to the rest of the team. They'll help if they can get back,” he says quietly as the car he's driving slopes down the garage's entrance under the building. Bruce nods at that idea. Having the others around would be of benefit.  
“Also,” Tony says, pulling the Maserati into it's space in the garage, “I'm going to move your room up a few levels. Put you closer to the top, near me.” What he says doesn't catch him for a few seconds til Bruce coughs, surprised.  
“Me and Pepper, of course,” Tony laughs, if weakly, trying to cover the gaff. 'I do not need to screw this up!' he admonishes himself, 'Keep your libido in check, Stark!'  
“You don't have to, Tony,” Bruce tries to brush him off, “Being closer puts you two in more danger, remember?” Some day, Tony would appreciate the effort Bruce took in reminding him all the time of the danger of having him so close.  
“Nothing doing. Besides, then you'll be closer to the better labs that are already on lock down,” Tony is flippant now. Bruce just gives up. There are other matters more important.

They split up once they get upstairs. Tony tells Bruce to just grab a few things and go straight to the private elevator for the penthouse labs on levels 90 through 95. He also mentions that someone HE trusts will be around to pack up the apartment and move that to one of the open housing floors, on 96 through 99 and did Bruce have a numerical preference? Bruce assured him he did not, and went for his tablet and tea. 

Tony headed up to find Pepper having breakfast and going over last minute updates from Security. Tony made for the shower to get ready for the day's worth of meetings this near fiasco had generated.  
“JARVIS, Dr Banner will hopefully be making his way to my lab at some point. Be a pal, and let him in?”, he asked his AI.  
“The usual biometric controls in place, sir?”, JARVIS replied with his query. Pepper and Rhodey only had a four digit code to let them into the lab unless Stark locked it down.  
“Hm, good question,” Tony mused, shedding clothes in the bedroom, “Banner ought to have full access no matter what. But he's not seen my creative jags either,” Tony mumbled as he headed for the bathroom, arc reactor glowing in the morning light. He considered the issue throughout his shower and other ablutions, not really making a decision when JARVIS had to prompt him when Bruce really did appear at the lab.

He rejoined Pepper, dressed in a dark suit ensemble that hid the light of the reactor from casual glances. She eyed his appearance carefully, noting that except for the Chuck Taylors, he'd taken care care to look like a CEO that day. She gifted him with a smile and a light peck on his cheek before leading the way to the elevator.  
“Bruce still onsite?”, she asked finally.  
“Yep. In my lab, working on some ideas we had for keeping Jolly Green occupied if he decides to visit,” Tony replied, his usual smirk in place. The elevator descended into the bowels of Stark Tower, taking the reigning King and Queen to address their subjects and start shoring up the security walls.  
“Heard from the rest of the team, yet?”, Tony asked her.  
“Mhm. Natasha and Clint are now roughly four hours away. JARVIS got a message to Capt. Rogers. And nothing from Thor,” Pepper replied from memory.  
“Are you going to run this show, with me as window dressing?”, he asked.  
“I thought I'd handle the departmental meeting, with you as back up. You need to talk to R&D at lunch, which is being catered in. Then we have the board all afternoon. I could not reschedule that on such short notice,” Pepper rattled off their schedule.  
“D'you think there'll be enough in the catering to send something up to Bruce?”, Tony murmured, suddenly wary of showing how much he cared for the other man.  
“I can get something sent special. It was Italian today,” Pepper said softly. Here was another piece of the puzzle of Tony's mercurial feelings. Was she starting to lose him? She shoved the idea and ruffled feelings to the back of her mind. First, she had to deal with today before dealing with a relationship crisis. Again.

 

Tony escorted her into the departmental meeting, unaware of the spiralling thoughts she valiantly fought off in order to keep focus on the present issue. That meeting, went well overall. Pepper refreshing everyone's mind regarding policy, and emphasizing penalties for failing to adhere to said policy. Tony managed to be brief and on topic going over the new security that would be in place starting that day, and had they noticed? Good. His feral smile was back for that one. He knew that since the days of the palladium poisoning, he'd worked hard to get even this much back within his own company. Pepper had been something of a stabilizing influence after all that, and before the Avengers. He didn't ever want to lose her, but now had to deal with interesting feelings and thoughts about Bruce.

Tony just wasn't cut out to handle the day to day drudgery of corporate management. He felt freer with Pepper in that role, letting him get back to his passion, engineering. That decision had bee one of the best he'd made in the whole 'palladium fiasco'. And, since Obadiah, there was no one he trusted more than Pepper Potts. But he knew, in the back of his mind on a little used thought track, that he'd have to deal with the newly christened “Bruce Issue” before too long.

The departmental meeting adjourned, Tony and Pepper stayed to get a fresh briefing from Jason Thomas. Jason approached, tapping at a StarkPad. “Team C has managed to go through most of the security footage from lunch onwards. We have positive IDs on each of the visitors and have started forming dossiers on them,” he informed his employers.  
“When that's completed, make sure it reaches my desk,” Tony didn't ask, but demanded. Jason nodded.  
“Team A is doing a floor to floor check of the building itself, confirming all access points are on lock down, and working out the holes to patch. Team B is already on site to cover both while they work,” was the man's conclusion.  
Pepper nodded, accepting the effort for the good start it was. “You'll be presenting this afternoon at the board meeting, Mr Thomas,” she told him. He acquiesced. He left them to go back to his teams once he confirmed the time for the meeting.  
Tony and Pepper moved on to their offices. Once settled, they got to work on regular business.

Well, Pepper worked on regular business; Tony designed little robots that would monitor his R&D levels. JARVIS interrupted them with a reminder about lunch.  
“Ms Potts, Mr Thomas is here to go over the new proposals, and sir, your luncheon with the R&D department awaits,” he told them.  
“Right. Save all this, J. I'm on my way. Pep, what time is the 'bored' meeting?” Tony got up from Pepper's small conference table where he'd been working. She looked up at him from her seat behind her desk. He'd shed the suit coat and rolled up his sleeves. The tie was probably stuffed in a pocket of the coat.  
“The meeting is at 2:30, Tony. Either I or JARVIS will pull you out of the playground,” she told him.  
“Okay, Mom!”, he teased her, eliciting a fond smile. Tony blew her a kiss, and walked out of her office, passing Jason Thomas.  
Pepper called Thomas in, and they went over his proposals for bettering security in the publicly accessible areas of Stark Tower.

 

Tony went to the larger labs his research teams inhabited, using his Starkphone to send a quick text to Bruce. JARVIS would relay both sides since Bruce hadn't been issued a phone yet. Tony made a note to change that.  
 _Let me know when the spider and bird show up, Banner?_  
Banner's reply: _Yep, will do. Give Pepper my thanks for lunch._  
Tony: _Hurt you didn't think it was me._  
Bruce: _T, think I know you better. :)_

Tony was laughing when he joined the R&D teams over Italian.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – the same as before!

A few hours into his work, Bruce was interrupted by JARVIS. “Dr Banner, Agents Romanov and Barton have arrived, and I must remind you that lunch is ready,” the AI's crisp tone carried through the silence.  
“Hm? Oh, all right. Where are they?”, Bruce straightened from the desk he'd appropriated on the lowest lab level Tony had given him access to.  
“They are on Level 96, the community space. Specifically the dining room,” JARVIS responded. Bruce left the lab and took the winding stairs up 6 flights to reach the common floor.

“Doc!”, Clint called, waving at him from his place at the large, 12 person, oval table. Natasha sat beside him, fussing over the take out boxes stacked there.  
“Hi you two. How are you?”, Bruce asked, moving over to check out the food Natasha uncovered. There was a mix of Asian and Indian dishes to pick from, making Bruce realize juts how long it had been since breakfast just from the smells alone.  
“Just off babysitting duty,” Clint said flippantly, tilting back his chair, so it rested on just 2 legs.  
Natasha elaborated after seeing Bruce's confused look, “Overseeing final training. Then someone had a disagreement with the facility superintendent.”  
“He had it coming, Nat!”, Clint exclaimed. She snorted good-naturedly, and put a heaping plate of food before him., mixed from several of the boxes.  
“Don't even hide the fact that you got in a few licks of your own!”, Clint said, pointing his index finger at her while bringing the chair level to more easily eat.

Bruce smiled at their banter, pleased they were comfortable enough with him to show this “down side” to themselves. He'd worried that Natasha would never get over being attacked by the Hulk, though they hadn't much chance to talk about it. Natasha shyly offered to make him a plate of food, which he agreed to. He missed the happy look Clint shot her when he reached for chopsticks. He thanked Natasha for the plate when she handed it over, and settled in to eat.

“So where are Stark and Rogers?”, she asked, making her own plate.  
Bruce chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food before answering, “Tony's dealing with a security problem. Haven't heard from Captain Rogers lately.” He managed to keep his voice steady when mentioning the security issue.  
“Ah, Pepper had sent a text this morning about that. Though we're also intrigued by this other idea of Stark's,” Natasha confirmed, slurping noisily through some noodles.  
“What idea?”, Bruce was suddenly tense. What had Tony forgotten to mention this morning? The other two ignored him, even as Clint answered, “Something about alterations to his mansion for our use.” The response was so off hand, Bruce could only guess that it might have been a cover reason to bring the team back together.  
“Oh. He hasn't had a chance to mention it to me yet,” Bruce quietly said, the tension leeching out of his shoulders.  
Clint shrugged, as if saying, “It's Stark, what else?”

After they finished eating, Natasha and Clint left to find guest quarters, according to directions given to them by JARVIS. A discreet word with the AI, and a side look at Bruce had the arrangement shifted to just one room. Bruce just blinked, and gave them a soft smile at the news.  
“Why should I care?”, was all he said. Natasha nodded, taking more comfort in the doctor's normalness. Clint grinned, grateful he'd not have to hide this relationship while at the Tower.  
“I'll even deal with Tony before tonight, all right?”, Bruce offered.  
“Hah!”, Clint snorted, “If you can do that, we'll owe you.”  
“Hm”, Natasha was not convinced, but a quirk of her lips belied that.  
“You just have to know which buttons to push,” Bruce evaded and promised in the same sentence. Clint outright laughed at the levels of innuendo, while Natasha's smirk bloomed into a full on smile. With that promise, and one to meet later to figure out dinner, they all parted ways.

 

Bruce returned to his purloined lab, to resume sketching ideas for the Hulk Room. He had chosen this lab because it appeared the least used, if perhaps by dint of being the furthest from the spaces Tony usually inhabited.  
“JARVIS, could you get a message to Tony please? It's not urgent, so don't interrupt him if he's busy,” Bruce asked the AI.  
“What's the message, Doctor?” JARVIS replied.  
“Tell him the agents are here, and to definitely thank Pepper for lunch, as it was delicious,” he was needling Tony again. Perhaps they were at that stage where they could. It was something he'd think about.  
“And also let him, and Pepper, know that we're getting together for dinner at 6:30, if they are done with work and would care to join us,” he finishes his message and JARVIS sends it off.

He calls up the Autocad and holographic systems and went to work on the ideas and plans again. Occasionally he'd get an internal nudge from the Hulk to tweak something, leaving him to hold an apparently one sided conversation that JARVIS recorded.  
“Huh, so, we need to put a what in the room?” started the ball rolling. “A pool? Wading? Deeper? Okay, it's your room. What else?” And there was a pause of a few minutes as it appeared Bruce was listening to 'something'.  
“All right, we'll see about adding that. Not sure how to explain it though. Yes, honesty is the best policy,” and here, the lab echoes to the sound of Bruce's deep, rolling laughter. He keeps fiddling with the holographic design program, moving bits from one area to another, writing notations and tracking the changing dimensions of overall size of the room.

Soon enough, 6:30 arrived and he had to stop his work to meet the others back upstairs.

 

Natasha and Clint spent their time unpacking and exploring the accessible levels of the Tower.  
“What do you think about this security thing, Tash?”, Clint asked her, as they stood admiring the home entertainment system available in the common area of their floor.  
“Not sure, though I believe it has the good doctor spooked. If I can get computer access, I'll see what I can find out,” she replied, confident in her abilities.  
“Unnecessary, Ms Romanov,” JARVIS said, “The security breach has to do with the unauthorized visits from several branches of the military. Mr Stark and Ms Potts are attempting to get to the bottom of it, as well as fix the leaks. They require assistance, if you think you can help.”  
Clint and Tasha shared a look, then Tasha addressed JARVIS for them both, “We're currently at loose ends until and unless SHIELD calls for us. If Stark and Ms Potts can come to dinner, we'll talk about it then.”  
“I will pass that along then, thank you,” and JARVIS left them alone.

 

They retired to their room and relaxed, enjoying the respite and silence they so rarely got between missions.  
“Nat?”, Clint broke the silence after about 90 minutes.  
“Yes, my Hawk?” They were stretched out on the California king bed, Clint using Tasha as a pillow. She carded the fingers of her right hand through his lengthening blond hair.  
“Will we go back to the house?”, he asked, his voice little boy small and lost.  
“Only if we need to. Did you want something?” Tasha softly told him, her hand stilling for a moment. He shook his head. “No, not right now. Might need street clothes soon though,” he said. She agreed, and her hand picked up again. They stayed that way until it was time to meet Bruce for dinner.

 

The trio met in the common area on 96, and took places on the semi-circular couch.  
“So we're waiting for Stark?”, Clint asked. Bruce and Tasha nod. Bruce finds a remote control that powers the entertainment unit and searches for the tv. He turns on the local news and they watched that til Tony and Pepper arrive. Those two made their appearance, loudly, about fifteen minutes later. JARVIS had warned them about the trio ensconced on the sectional and advised the pair to not move quietly into the room.  
Bruce looked up and greeted the pair, “How'd it go?”  
Pepper sat daintily on the edge of the couch, while Tony sprawled beside her. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
“The board, of course, thinks we're overreacting. Fortunately this was an 'advisory meeting',” Pepper made air quotes on those two words, “So we don't have to keep them informed. Just document everything.”  
“Days like today, I want to scrap that pile of useless mouthbreathers, Pep,” grumbled Tony from beside her. She patted his knee in commiseration.

“What next?”, Clint asked from where he'd been curled into the couch about midway into the arc.  
“We solve it, close the holes, and keep the military from getting its greedy little paws on whatever it was after,” Tony answered solemnly, looking at Bruce the entire time. Bruce wouldn't meet his hard, promising gaze. Tony gave a tiny sigh, he'd get through to Bruce, somehow.

Clint noticed the infinitesimally ratcheting of tension in the room, and broke it, “So, dinner?”  
Tony gets a wolfish grin on his face, “Order in, go out or rattle around in the kitchen?”  
“Out”, Tasha and Clint both say.  
“Kitchen” comes from Bruce, though he has a feeling...  
“Don't care,” says Pepper.  
“Out it is then!” Tony practically crowed. Bruce's face closed off. Natasha and Clint both eyed each other, 'spy code' for “are you armed now” to which the answer was “yes”. Pepper only requested an out of the way place and none of Tony's shenanigans.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – lost track of my verses...ah well, onward!  
> AN – TRIGGER WARNING – brief description of a nightmare event at the end, feel free to skip the last quarter of the chapter. I'll stick a mark in there for where it begins.

Days later, Bruce is working in his lab, still drawing up details on a Hulk Room, when Tony bursts in, causing the stylus in Bruce's hand to light a jagged line across the three dimensional space glowing before him.  
“Bruce! There you are! You still working on that? C'mon, Steve's called, needs a pick up from somewhere out in BFE,” Tony rattles around Bruce like an erratic satellite does its primary, poking at the 3D drawing. “Huh, nice place. Looks very Zen. Is this for you, or Green Jeans?”, Tony's poking exposes the room in parts and he expands a few sections.  
“Um,” Bruce stalls, fiddling with the stylus nervously. Tony takes a good, long look at the dimensions of certain pieces and realizes everything.  
“It is for the Hulk! Damn Banner, that's one tricked out room! What is that, a pool? Hulk swims?” Tony laughs. Bruce's cheeks pink a little in embarrassment but he won't back down on this.  
“We find it useful to burn off the adrenaline if its not otherwise used up,” Bruce told him, then damn near slapped a hand to his forehead for the slip.  
“We?” Tony asked, but was interrupted by Clint and Natasha coming to the door of the lab.

“Stark! I'm going to get Rogers. Can you provide transport?”, Clint asked.  
“Yeah bird brain, I've got something you can fly. Just gotta call the hangar. We're not done, Banner!”, Tony said, letting himself get swept away by the two SHIELD agents. Bruce breathed a small sigh of relief when all 3 had left. He cleared the 3D modeling and called up the files on the Iron Man armor to tinker with for a few hours.

All too soon, Tony's back, all boundless enthusiasm like a Labrador puppy. “Ooh, the armor? Cool, we can work on that”, Tony sounded gleeful. Bruce was happy to have successfully distracted him, knowing it wouldn't last long. At one point, they have to go up to one of Tony's labs where he worked on the suit to utilize the tables where the parts were spread out.

Tony was working on an electrical relay, soldering iron in hand and magnification goggles on his face when the relay flashed, puffing up smoke and sparks. “Sonnofabitch!” he cursed, flailing away from the table in surprise. The iron skittered off the table to the floor.  
“Tony?”, Bruce looked up from his notes on one of the displays.  
“M'fine,” Tony said, trying to collect himself.  
“No, you're not. What happened?” Bruce got up, and walked to the other man's station. He saw the slagged relay and scorch marks, and followed the cord to the still hot soldering iron on the floor. He went around the corner of the table and picked it up, turning it off before setting it back on its cradle.

“Stupid relay slagged,” Tony half-heartedly explained. He hated admitting mistakes. Bruce looked at the genius, taking in signs of exhaustion clearly marking his friend's face.  
'Damn', he thought. “Okay, and when was the last time you got any sleep?”, Bruce wasn't comfortable with the idea that Tony wasn't getting any rest, probably over this still unresolved military thing.  
“Hmm, don'member,” and now Bruce could tell the adrenaline was wearing off as Tony's words were slurring together.  
“JARVIS?” Bruce queries.

“Sir, Mr. Stark hasn't had more than one 20 minute power nap in the last 36 hours. Nor has he eaten more than peanut butter and marshmallow fluff for sustenance,” JARVIS would see his primary function carried out.  
Bruce quickly makes a decision. “Save all this please, JARVIS. Tony's going to bed after I feed him,” he instructs the AI.  
“Very good sir,” and JARVIS fairly hums with pleasure. He realized he'd just found a kindred spirit in keeping Tony sane and whole.  
The holograms and digital files disappeared and the lab lights start shutting off as Bruce maneuvers to haul Tony out bodily.  
“Nuu Bruce,” Tony tries to resist, but at that point, it was like resisting the tide. Bruce throws his right arm around Tony's back and lifts him from the rolling task chair. For all his unassuming postures and habits, Bruce is rather strong, and had been for a long time.  
“C'mon sleepy. We're closer to my room and I know I can put together something better than PB and Fluffernutter,” Bruce makes a face. That was a college food, suitable for late night cram sessions or the hole between funding. Not for keeping this egotistical genius with more money than sense functioning. Tony was definitely sleep deprived, he broke into giggles at “Fluffernutter”.

Bruce maneuvered the pair of them to the elevator and punched the print scanner long enough for it to register his presence. The elevator obediently rose to the last available floor before the security system (JARVIS) required Tony's or Pepper's input. Bruce figured he could corral Tony into at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Longer if he contacted Pepper. He contemplated that, glancing at Tony's face, currently smooshed against his collarbone. The exhaustion was even more pronounced this close. Tony's nearly amber eyes were glazed with fatigue and his skin tone was grayed out.  
'Ah Tony, are we worth this?', he thought to himself, carefully keeping the thought from reaching the Hulk.

“C'mon Bruce, we weren't done!”, Tony whined, wriggling in Bruce's arms. He sounded all of six years old.  
“Tony, stop it. A nap lasting longer than an hour won't kill you,” Bruce insisted, tightening his hold to convince the other man to stop moving before Bruce dropped him.

Bruce got Tony to his apartment, thankfully located closer to the elevator than the one on the 30th floor had been, and unceremoniously dumped the engineer on the couch. “Stay there, while I start some food in the kitchen. JARVIS, contact Pepper for me please?”, Bruce sighed, moving into the open kitchen.  
“Right away Doctor,” was the AI's reply. He was grateful to have the continued presence of the AI, as he found the intelligent system useful in keeping up with Tony. Bruce's rummaging in the fridge turned up cold cuts to turn out club sandwiches and he discovered caffeine free soda.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, bless JARVIS. He fished it out, in between slathering slices of bread with mayo.  
“Pepper?”, he asked, answering it.  
“Hey Bruce. JARVIS said you needed me?” she queried, curious, and a tiny bit worried.  
“Yeah, um Tony's wiped out, and I ah...have him here in my place to get some sleep. If that's all right?”, Bruce was nervous. He'd not had to make such a unilateral decision for anyone else outside of himself and was unsure how she'd take his presumption.  
“You got him to leave the labs?”, Pepper couldn't mask the shock in her voice.

“Well...” Bruce demurred, “I hauled him out bodily, to be honest. After a small incident with a relay.”  
“What?” Pepper was concerned now, “Is he okay?”  
“Yeah, fine. Just, he needs sleep. Does he need to do anything SI related this afternoon?”, Bruce asked.  
“No, his schedule's been clear again since the Incident,” She sighs, she hadn't known he'd been staying up all hours again, too busy with other matters. “Bruce? Can you look after him for me? It's a hell of a thing to ask, you must have work of your own.”  
“No, not really. Hadn't started any experiments, and the work I was doing was either on the Hulk Room or on the armor. It'll keep for babysitting,” Bruce reassured her.  
She snorted at his choice of words. “And Natalie and Clint?” she asked.  
“At least Clint went to get Captain Rogers. I think Natalie went to get him past the crew at the hangar,” Bruce was guessing, but it made sense. Natasha had reactivated her persona “Natalie Rushman” to act as Pepper's PA, mostly working on the security issue, and as liaison between Pepper and Tony. Clint had come aboard Stark Industries as a “jack of all trades”, and worked mostly as an analyst, who was helping them figure out where they could make other changes. The pair were making huge strides on getting to the bottom of the military problem, and ferreting out other issues besides. But it didn't mean Tony had to be sacrificing himself like this. They were a team, and everyone could help, somehow.

“Okay, I'll try her cell next. Thanks Bruce, I appreciate it,” and there was an undercurrent to Pepper's thanks that Bruce could not figure out right then.  
“No problem. I'll wake him for the dinner meeting we had planned. I'm still cooking, right?”, he tried for lightness, when he knew something had made Pepper a little sad.  
“Sure, you promised something Jamaican, as I recall. See you at 6,” Pepper disconnected the call, leaving Bruce feeling vaguely discomfited by the whole conversation. He put the phone on the bar, and finished the sandwiches. Grabbing 2 root beers, he went back to the couch, finding Tony mostly asleep.  
“Tony,” he called, nudging the other man with his foot.  
“Hmph?”, Tony grunts, trying to claw his way to consciousness.  
“Food. Eat, then I'll let you sleep for awhile,” Bruce told him, handing over a plate and depositing the bottles on the coffee table.  
“Don'wanna”, Tony half-heartedly protested, even with a fourth of the club in his hands, and two bites taken out of it.  
“I know, but do this for me, okay?”, Bruce was unsure why he was trying to convince the man. But honestly, when he couldn't look after himself, someone had to!  
The clarity of that thought had Bruce pausing, bottle of root beer halfway to his mouth. That's what was wrong with Pepper. She hadn't known Tony'd gotten this bad, and was feeling guilt? Maybe. He took a long pull from the soda, draining half of it. He'd worry about that later, probably during the dinner meeting.

Tony managed 3/4 of the sandwich and half of his own soda before he shoved the plate onto the table and listed sideways. “Happy?”, he grunted.  
Bruce finished his sandwich and root beer, and left the plate on the table. “Good enough, Tony. Now, you can stay out here, or use a bed,” he offered.  
“Bed?”, Tony groaned, loosing the battle to stay awake fast.  
“Okay, guest room it is. Let's go, Tony,” he stood and reached for the other man, hooking his hands around his chest to haul the younger* man upright. Chest to chest, they stood there, while Bruce got coordinated enough to shuffle out from between the table and couch. He ended up holding Tony tighter to kick the table away. The increased closeness made Tony hum in pleasure. Bruce's body temperature was quite warm, and Tony reacted in the haze of his sleepiness to burrow. Bruce's ears pinked, but he just manipulated the mostly asleep genius to his spare bedroom and to the bed. He managed the covers without losing Tony, and then got the man out of his shoes, belt and pants before forcing him to lay back and down. As he drew the blankets into place, he had his wrists caught. Looking down, he saw Tony staring at him through his lashes.  
“Thanks”, he mumbled.  
“Go to sleep, Tony. I'll be out in the living room,” Bruce softly commands. Tony curls on his side and is out like a light. Bruce goes back to the living room and finishes off the last of Tony's food before putting the plates in the kitchen and the bottles into the recycling bin. He settled back on the couch and found the paperback he'd been reading on and off between medical journals.  
“JARVIS”, he started to say, as an afterthought.  
“I will alert you with plenty of time to wake Mr Stark,” JARVIS promised, without having to be asked.  
“Thank you,” and Bruce lost himself in “The Two Towers” for a couple of hours.

 

 

**TRIGGERING CONTENT**

 

Small, slight noises eventually pull Bruce from the land Tolkien created. He cocks his head to one side, trying to identify the sounds. It quiets down for just a moment, and Bruce shrugs and cracks the paperback back open. Before he can find his place, there's a scream from the guest bedroom that has him up off the couch like a shot. He moves quickly, covering the short distance and gets into the room to see Tony flailing in the bed, sheets wrapped around his body like he'd been mummified.  
“Tony?” Bruce asks, worried. There was no one else in the room. Tony screamed again, panicked and pained. Bruce moved over to the bed, to attempt to wake the other man. However, Tony's flailing kept him from getting too close without restraining him. The low level sounds Tony is making resolve into occasional words.

“No, Yinsen! You can't. No. Stop. You can't.” And Tony screams again, fingers of both hands now clawing at the arc reactor. His face scrunched up in anger? No, fear.

Bruce moves in now, to grab his wrists, but that just makes Tony fight harder. Bruce clicks his tongue in frustration, wraps one hand around both wrists and almost literally climbs up Tony's wildly moving body.  
“This is like dealing with an eel, Tony. Come on, wake up,” Bruce cajoles, firmly sitting behind Tony to wrap an arm around the other's upper arms and chest. Tony continues to flail, eyes closed tight against the memory nightmare. He grunts, realizing that Bruce, or someone has hold of him, though still not aware of his surroundings. The repetitiveness of denial drips from Tony's mouth in a never ending spiral of self hatred, and pain that rips at Bruce and wakens Hulk from his own somnolence.

Now, Bruce possibly has two fights on his hands. He immediately changes tactics. Instead of fighting Tony's flailing, he rolls with it. He knows he'll come up bruises later, but thinks it'll be worth it. This is only a small bit of reparation for the kindness this man has shown him thus far.  
“Tony. Tony, shh. It's okay. You're all right. You're safe. This isn't the cave. You're at home,” Bruce repeats over and over. Part of what he's saying is for Tony, part for the Hulk, all for all three of them. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Tony calms down. The mutterings stumbling into silence. His body's movements slowing and eventually stilling. Tony eventually lay completely lax in the circle of Bruce's arms. His skin covered in a fine sweat, hair plastered to his head. He breathed softly in the relaxed manner of someone deeply asleep.

 

**END TRIGGERY CONTENT**

Bruce shifted, readjusting Tony's limp form in his grip. He'll stay, letting Tony sleep comfortably, before slipping out 30 minutes before Tony needed to be awake. Hopefully, Tony would never know this happened. He'd deal with whatever bruises appeared on his own, thankful he'd not been struck in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - According to the Marvel Movie wiki, Bruce is the elder by about 5 months. If I have been in error before, I will eventually get around to correcting this. Marvel.com is being stubborn about such info (and I never read Avengers comics as a kid, sorry).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I need to add a tag on the front of this. Thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – the song's been stuck on repeat, help!  
> AN – phone text is again in italics; PS, drama incoming. Also, ramping up the posting schedule so that this next section is resolved before Christmas. Hopefully!

By the time of the dinner meeting, Clint had returned with Steve, bringing nearly the entire team back together. Bruce was slightly overwhelmed by the show of solidarity for this 'little' problem.

He stood in the kitchen, exhausted from earlier, making stewed chicken and roti for dinner and listening to the others catch up on what they'd been up to. They took the time over dinner to explain to Steve what had happened and what they expected to accomplish now. Bruce managed to escape back to his rooms during dessert, citing a rare headache, needing the distance from the others for a bit. He elected to take a soothing bath and read for the rest of the night to relax and regroup. But as he was drawing that bath, JARVIS interrupted.  
“Dr. Banner, I apologize for interrupting your relaxation, but I have a forwarded message from the Stark Tower switchboard for you,” the AI informed him in apologetic, crisp tones.  
“Oh? Please play the message, JARVIS,” Bruce replied, distractedly, rummaging through his collection of essential oils for something to add to the bath water. JARVIS complied. Bruce stilled as soon as the first word was spoken.

“Bruce? Oh I hope this reaches you. I saw the Hulk on the news with that alien invasion. Please, if you can, let me know that you're all right?”, it was the voice of Betty Ross, his former lover and co-worker at New Mexico. Daughter of his nightmare. He barely remembered to turn off the taps before sinking to the floor, completely stunned. Betty, wanted to hear from him?  
“JARVIS?” he whispered, hardly able to speak, “Is there a number?”  
“I forwarded that to your private line, Doctor,” was the AI's quiet, supportive reply.  
“Thank you.” Now, did he call her back now, or wait? It took him ten minutes to gather the confidence to leave his bathroom to find his Starkphone and search for the number Betty had called from. He pressed the call button and sat on the edge of the bed to listen to the phone ring.

It rang three times before someone picked up. “Hello?” It was Betty. Bruce's breath hitched just a moment.  
“Hello Dr Ross,” Bruce formally greeted in reply. Did he still have the right to be familiar with her? He truly didn't know, it had been too long.  
“Bruce? Oh my God! Are you okay? Where are you?”, she had been crying, he could tell. Her voice was hoarse.  
“I'm okay, Betty. And I'm still in Manhattan, at a friend's,” he hedged. What she didn't know would keep everyone safe from her father.  
“Bruce, please, I need to see you. Can we meet somewhere?”, she pleaded with him.  
“I, I suppose Betty. But I'm not real familiar with Manhattan. Haven't gotten out much since the attack,” he agreed almost immediately, some part of him needing something about Betty he was unsure of. He knew he still loved her, but thought she was still afraid of the Hulk, and therefore kept his distance. Maybe they could try again.

Betty suggested a place, giving him an address to give to a cabbie. They agreed to meet in 90 minutes, which gave Bruce plenty of time to clean up and change. He chose to text Tony about his meet as he left his rooms and took the elevator to street level.  
 _Going out for a few hours to meet an old friend. Don't wait up._ – Bruce  
 _Wait, what?_ \- Tony

 _Something outside of Avengers and Stark Industries, Tony. It'll be fine._ \- Bruce

 _You sure, Green Genes?_ \- Tony

 _YES, Tony. Stop mother-henning. Talk to you tomorrow._ \- Bruce

 _Huff. Be that way. Cya Greenie._ \- Tony

Bruce pocketed his phone as he flagged down a cab, smiling. Tony wasn't upset, just being a little over protective. Bruce didn't need that right now. He gave the driver the address and settled into the back of the cab for the ride.

 

Thirty minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of a bar that looked run down in an otherwise high rent area. Bruce wondered if it was a landmark or something of that nature, as he paid the cabbie and strolled across the sidewalk to the entrance. He was meeting Betty at the bar, and chose a stool near the back so he could easily keep an eye on the entrance.  
“What'll you have?” the bartender asked him when he was settled.  
“Vodka tonic,” Bruce ordered, just to keep the peace. The one drink should keep him for the entire length of his meeting. Betty arrived right after his drink was placed before him.

“Bruce!”, she happily cried, holding her arms open to elicit a hug from the stocky physicist.  
“Betty!”, Bruce replied, sliding off his barstool to give her that hug. “How are you?”  
“Better, now that we're here. Bruce, how did you get involved in that attack?”, she sounded frightened, even though the invasion was two months passed.  
“Friends in weird places,” Bruce said. He didn't want to reveal his association with SHIELD, or with Tony just yet. Though the news coverage had shown Iron Man in all its red and gold glory, Bruce wasn't sure how obvious it was that everyone had been working together as a team. Betty took a moment to get a drink from the bartender.  
“So what have you been doing with yourself since Culver, Bruce?”, she asked, sipping the dry, white wine she'd asked for.

“Well, I took up humanitarian work. Assisted in Haiti after the earthquake* there, then some travel around the Caribbean before heading for India,” he explained. Bruce left some locales out, areas of conflict that he felt would just make Betty worry more than she needed to, Somalia, and Bosnia.  
“Even though you never finished the medical program, you are getting use out of those skills?”, she asked.  
“It makes up for...” he trailed off. She knew, and reached out to touch him sympathetically on the hand. He gave a wistful smile in return.  
“So tell me about you,” he requested. She talked about what she'd been up to, having taken a teaching position at SUNY. She'd been seeing Major Glen Talbot, but he'd been deployed recently to North Korea. That info both depressed Bruce, and pleased him. At least she was happy, and that, was most important to him and Hulk.

They talked for awhile and Bruce actually finished his drink, which surprised him. “Want another?”, Betty asked.  
“Sure, if you don't mind, while I take care of business?”, he laughed, excusing himself. She smiled and agreed.

 

While he was gone, Betty signaled the others in the crows, along with the bartender. “It had better be now, or his metabolism will neutralize the first half of the sedative,” she told the man. He nodded, mixing Bruce's new drink from very specific bottles.  
When he came back, the new drink waited innocently on the bar, and Betty was still smiling for him.  
“You haven't told me how you got the Hulk involved in the invasion, Bruce,” she prompted.  
“Ah, that. Well, it was a short term thing, I guess,” Bruce was nervous. The team was supposed to keep a low profile, but he wanted no profile in comparison. He clutched his drink and took a large gulp of it to soothe his nerves.

“Heh, I think I'd better switch to water,” he said, voice suddenly slurring. Betty's attention sharpened, her eyes carefully tracking his face.  
“Betty? What was in that?”, Bruce knew something was wrong. But betrayal? From Betty?

“It's okay Bruce. Daddy wants to see you. This will keep everyone safe. Glen promised,” she said, patting his shoulder. That word. She never called ol'Thunderbolt, “Daddy”, either “Dad”, or, since New Mexico, Father or even, General.

In his head, he distantly heard Hulk roaring, frustrated. It felt like the Big Guy was trying to come through a pool of molasses, while dragging a tank behind him. All his reactions were slow, and he was getting sleepy.  
“No Betty. Your father...” Bruce began, but lost consciousness, and slipped from the barstool to the ground.

Betty turned on her stool and waved at her companions, calling them over. “Be gentle with him, boys. Daddy actually wants him whole and completely undamaged,” she ordered. Three burly men reached the bar and bent down to wrestle the dead weight of Banner's body up between them and drag him out the back. Betty looked at the bartender, “General Ross thanks you for your service, soldier. You're a true patriot.” And she slid a twenty across the bar to him. It was folded over a beige envelope that the bartender pocketed after depositing the twenty in the til and separating out his tip.

 

The men handling Bruce got him out the back and restrained into a nondescript gray, panel van. Betty soon joined them, taking the passenger seat. She instructed the driver to leave.

 

It would be halfway through the next day before Bruce was missed at Stark Towers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** - the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, for a frame of reference.
> 
> Well, I think this is our first cliffy. *sniff* What a milestone. See you in a few days (Friday?) with Chapter 13, when shite gets real nasty.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the warnings on this, and the next four or so chapters. Things get very hard for our boys, and it begins here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER AND WARNINGS: Ok, this is where stuff gets real, and dark, VERY DARK. Proceed into this and the rest of the next 4 chapters CAREFULLY, please. I have in this one, graphic depictions of torture, and betrayal (of trust, and love), medical devices in the commitment of abuse, abuse in general, gore and vivisection. I'll warn in specific instances of truly nasty stuff, but take it as given that the whole chapter should be viewed very carefully.   
> And we begin...

Bruce regained consciousness, to find himself naked, chained to a metal chair that was bolted to a metal grate set in a concrete floor. He rolled his head, trying to loosen his neck muscles, while his mind cleared from the drug.  
'Hulk?' he pressed into the mindscape, hoping to rouse his other self. Eerily, there was no response. “Great”, Bruce muttered.

A door opened on a wall some twenty feet away, and Bruce saw Betty Ross sauntering towards him. He knew he should be angry with her, but his older regard, his love, overrode that.  
“Hello Bruce,” she fairly purred, approaching him.  
“Betty,” he replied neutrally. She laughed and touched his face, in a loving manner.

“I bet you are confused by my actions, aren't you? Well, Daddy was tired of disobedience, so, he fixed that,” the smile on her face chilled Bruce to the bone. This was not the Betty Ross he knew.  
“What did the General do?”, he carefully asked.  
“Oh, just had a special treatment for me. These lovely little pills that took away all my insecurities and doubts,” her hands were expressive, as she pulled away from him, lightly scratching his cheeks as she did so.  
“Well, I hope to have the opportunity to tell him how I feel about that,” Bruce said.   
Betty's eyes went dark with anger as she snapped, “You'll have plenty of time to reminiscence with Daddy. But first,” she clapped her hands twice, and a man in a lab coat came in the room, wheeling in a long table with several devices on it. Bruce recognized an electro-stimulus machine, a box of acupuncture needles, a case that resembled that which held chef's knives, a clear box of bamboo slivers, and other devices he could not name. On a small shelf below the top, he saw a box of nitrile gloves, and a couple bottles of isopropyl alcohol, and one of hydrogen peroxide; there was also a small stack of cotton gauze squares next to the bottles.  
“Thank you, Mr. Leeds. You may prep his body for the electro-stim, while I explain what will happen,” she told the lab coated man. He nodded and quietly went to work. He pulled on a pair of gloves, grabbed the gauze and a bottle of alcohol, then began to wipe down Bruce's body. When that was done, Mr. Leeds began attaching electrodes to Bruce's chest. This was when Bruce realized he'd been shaved at some point while unconscious – the electrodes having no issues sticking, where they normally would in the previously thick thatch of chest hair he normally sported.

“Now then, this first round will be rather simple Bruce. I'm going to test the levels of TENS against your endorphin levels. We might use the acupuncture needles as assists, to see if the monster responds. Everything will be recorded. We'll also be taking samples of various fluids as we go, so needles and the like. You aren't still phobic, are you?” Bruce actually flinched to hear Betty call the Hulk a monster. She'd been the first to acknowledge that he was more than that, after his creation.

“And please don't throw our tests off with reactions like that, Bruce,” she chides, “We'd just have to start all over again.” And Betty pouted. The effect was ruined by the frank, evil look in her dark eyes.  
The other man finished his task, and stepped back to wait for his next command. If he wasn't breathing, Bruce would have sworn the man was only an automaton. Betty pulled on a pair of the nitrile gloves and cracked the seal on the box of needles. Turning to Bruce, she held the leads to the TENS unit in one hand.  
“We'll start the current off low, and increase it by fives. Where necessary, we'll change to the needles,” she told Leeds. He grabbed a clipboard from the shelf on the cart to keep notes on.

“Okay Bruce, now remember, this is for science,” she giggled, turning on the TENS unit. The first 5 levels were merely a soft, growing buzz in Bruce's muscles. The unit performed as designed. In another setting, he'd find it quite relaxing. Here, well, he'd rather be elsewhere.

After about an hour, Betty stopped, and stepped away. “We'll give you a little break, all right? I need to talk to Daddy,” Betty told her ex, stepping away from her work. She and Leeds left him alone for a long while. After that break, Betty came back, and spent time inserting the acupuncture needles along various meridians in Bruce's body until his body fairly bristled with the fine gauge, steel needles.  
“There. Now, we'll just attach a few of these leads to the needles, and record some new information,” she gently tells him, as if he was seeing her for therapy, instead of being her prisoner in some strange twilight zone.

As she left him be again, he took the chance to drop fully into the mindscape.

“Hulk? C'mon man, I know this isn't usual, but this isn't at all normal for us. Not since we started out,” Bruce called out. The door to the house in the mindscape creaked, and Bruce turned. He saw the electric green eyes peering out of the shadows.  
“What's wrong, Hulk?” he asked, slowly approaching the house.  
“Betty is wrong. Wants to hurt us,” Hulk responded, his voice so soft, and full of hurt; it reminded Bruce of when he was very young, and trying to figure out why his own Daddy was trying to hurt him.  
“I know buddy. I don't know why or how. It's only going to get worse the longer we're here, you understand that right?”, Bruce explained. He wasn't sure Hulk would help, if Betty was involved in this. Truly Ross had learned something in all their encounters.  
Hulk nodded, completely dejected. “Go now?” he asked.  
“I...” Bruce didn't finish. His consciousness was ripped from the mindscape, something they'd been unaware could happen. Hulk roared, surprised as the image of Banner flickered out of existence before him.

 

Bruce came back to himself, as Leeds backhanded him, again. His face felt pretty bruised, so he was certain the tech had struck him a few times to his attention.  
“Dr. Ross has been delayed. I will continue the experiment until she returns, or my orders are countermanded. We are raising the current to half again as high as it was last. And making things more interesting by applying the electrodes directly to the muscle fibers. You'll forgive me for not having a proper medical degree, won't you?” And Leeds grabs up the knife case to unveil a set of butchering tools the likes of which Bruce hasn't seen outside the meat market in Chelsea.

****GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD** for blood, gore, vivisection**

Leeds took out the long, thin skinning blade and the honing steel. He checked on the edge unnecessarily before putting the steel away. Walking toward Bruce, a sinister light gleamed in the man's otherwise dull, hazel eyes that made Bruce's heart stutter a bit in fear.  
“Of course, we are fresh out of lidocaine or other locals, this will be quite painful, I hope,” and he grins in a dark manner.

He wields the knife as though he's had practice behind a counter, deft cuts along the biceps and deltoids of Bruce's arms that quickly leak vital red liquid that stains the air with the tang of iron. Once the cuts are made, Leeds puts the knife aside and reaches for more electrodes and leads. He slowly, and yes, painfully inserts them into the cuts he made, creating pockets out of the fibers of muscle in Bruce's arms to insert the electrodes.

The lead wires dangled from the cuts like marionette lines, before Leeds connected them to the TENS unit. Once that was done, he turned the machine on, and turned the current up. Bruce hissed from the jolt he got as the machine kicked on, but otherwise did not react. Leeds frowned.  
“This just won't do. Be still, I will return momentarily,” he snapped, leaving the machine on, and leaving Bruce alone.

Not too much time passes, and Leeds returns. Bruce has come to ignore the buzzing sensation skating across his body from the TENS. Leeds has a new device in his hands, it's not something Bruce recognizes.  
“This might work better. These therapies are supposed to be beneficial, not harmful. We'll have to make it up as we go along, I suppose,” the man says, turning off and disconnecting the TENS unit. He hooks up the new device and turns it on. Fiddling with the controls, he ratchets up the volts on it to the highest possible setting. This new device causes actual pain along Bruce's arms, contracting the muscles, and forcing the blood to flow faster, bathing the chair beneath him in red.

Leeds ended up pulling many of the needles out of Bruce's skin, the pinpricks sluggishly bleeding in comparison to the rents in his upper arms. Eventually, the man wises up, and turns off the new unit to mop up the small rivers of blood. But the cuts are left open to the air.

“Hm, let's see, what else would Dr. Ross like us to try? Well, we do need to collect samples of various fluids, as she requested,” and he looked for the collection vials and syringes necessary for that task. They weren't on the cart, so he had to go find where they'd been left.

Betty eventually returned. “Well, that was unfortunate. Leeds took initiative he did not have, Bruce. I'm sorry,” she giggled insanely. “But what's done is done, I'm afraid. Let's take a look at the experiment, shall we?” She approaches him slumped over in the chair and deftly runs her gloved hands over the cuts in his arms, probing the injuries. Each touch is lover-soft, as if she still cared, somehow. Bruce almost dreamed that was true, but the horrific reality was the only thing beating on his senses at that moment. At each cut though, she hesitates, then her fingers dip into the openings, testing the depth and width of the incisions. Bruce grunts at the new waves of pain.

“Hm, I think I can work with this. Let's try...ah ha!” and Betty turns to the cart and picks up the clear container of bamboo. Bruce tries to push down the pain, to focus on what's in front of him. Just as she opens the container though, Leeds comes back in, carrying a series of syringes on a shiny metal tray.

“Dr. Ross, you have forgotten these,” he said, proffering the tray of drug filled syringes.  
“Ah yes, the sedative. Have to record the levels necessary to keep the monster down, now don't we?” she said, picking up a single syringe. She injected it into Bruce's neck, drawing a hiss of pain from the physicist. The newly emptied syringe is discarded through the metal grate and Betty goes back to the bamboo. The container holds slivered pieces, cut in such a way as to be easily picked up, or modified in some extra fashion. This Betty does, taking pieces out one by one, and roughing them up with a small steel brush heretofore ignored on the cart, to make the short, inside fibers bristle, before inserting those pieces individually into the cuts along Bruce's arms. She made other pieces much smaller, and went for the traditional slivers under his finger and toenails approach. The bamboo succeeded in wrenching actual pitched cries from Bruce.

The sound only made Betty smile. The Hulk did not come.

After she placed the last bit of bamboo, she reached for and opened the knife case to take out the honing steel again to work over the skinning blade once more. Neither she, nor Leeds had bothered to clean the thing after the first time.

Bruce eyed the blade warily. It gleamed in the harsh light of the halogens of the room as Betty honed the edge against the tube of steel in her left hand. It took her 10 minutes before she was completely satisfied with the edge. Then she put the steel away and advanced on Bruce's manacled form.  
“I know Daddy tried this experiment before Bruce, but we're going to do it slightly differently this time,” she told him, caressing his cheek softly with the flat of the blade.

*****EXTRA GORE WARNING*****

He had nothing to say, knowing it would make no difference to the outcome of the endeavor. She smiled, and turned the blade edge on into Bruce's skin, high on his cheek bone. The degloving experiments had never involved his face. This would be interesting.

The cut was quick, and initially not deep, just enough to pull off the top layer of skin.  
“Well, the gamma overload didn't affect the color of your blood any,” Betty said, reaching out ever gentle fingers and tugging on the newly made flap, drawing it down past the slits and tearing another inch into the flesh. Bruce took to breathing deeply so he didn't flinch. His hands closed spasmodically into fists as his sides at the pain.

Still the Hulk did not come.

Betty carved strips down Bruce's face, across his shoulders; avoiding the previous wounds, and down his arms. Rivulets of blood joined the earlier rivers and dripped down his wrists and fingers. He grunted and groaned, biting clean through his tongue in an effort to stay silent in the face of this new torture. He clenched his jaw against the rising tide of pain as Betty moved to peel strips off his legs and feet.

Still the Hulk did not come.

After ten minutes of this, Betty sighed and stepped back, disappointed. “This will never do. Daddy will have to let me step things up. What do you say to that Bruce?”, she said, letting him sit there, strips of flesh hanging like strings of ribbon. She put the filthy knife back on the work table, stripped off the gloves and walked out of the room.

Bruce shuddered and moaned, falling into shock. Still, the Hulk did not come.

 

*****END GORE WARNING*****

He lost track of time then, drifting in and out of consciousness as more was done to him. None of it was enough to bring on an appearance of the Hulk, not with the weird sedative they injected him with every other hour, and it only confused his tormentors. They wanted the Hulk to make an appearance, or try to at least.

During one moment of lucidity, he thought he heard Betty discuss with Leeds meat hooks and how much chain would be needed. He faded back into the mindspace shortly after, looking for all the world like he was unconscious.

 

He appeared on the mindscape, and stumbled to the firepit. He couldn't manage the tree stump, just collapsed onto the forest floor.  
“Banner?”, Hulk asked, from the safety of the house. If he'd been more aware, he might have noticed it looked shrunken in on itself.  
“I'm here, barely,” Bruce panted, “Not for much longer though.”

The next thing Bruce was conscious of fighting, and the vaguely familiar sound of the repulsors in the armor. He caught a feminine scream, and then...  
“We've got eyes on Banner!” a voice shouted. It might have been Hawkeye.  
Bruce thought his mind might be playing tricks on him, as he thought Tony was now in the room with him.  
“Oh God, Bruce. I'm here. You need to let the Hulk out.”

 

And Bruce remembered nothing else.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have an extra chapter on me, to make up for the utter brain-f%%% of the previous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER/AUTHOR'S NOTE: suffices that the continuation of the previous warnings is in play. We're done with the outright torture, and this time, we're back with the rest of the team. So nothing ought to be triggering, but I'm just the author. Please continue to proceed with caution until I say otherwise, okay? Okay.

The team gathered the next morning to plan their next movements and figure out what Steve could do to help. Bruce didn't appear for breakfast, but no one thought much of it, thinking maybe he'd overslept, or was still keeping to himself.

“Anyone still in the service that I might know is probably going to be of high rank, if that, Tony. Most of our boys served and got out, or just retired,” Steve insisted, waving a glass of apple juice around to emphasize his point.  
“Doesn't matter. You just need to be seen. The super spies can handle anything else,” Tony countered.  
“Now wait a minute!”, Clint tried to butt in, but Natasha just shook her head. He subsided with a grunt.

“Pepper can call up our contacts, and see who wants to host Captain America for a day. They'll fall all over themselves to do it,” Tony sounded very sure of himself, drinking his coffee. But then, when didn't he?  
“Let me think about this, all right? You're basically asking me to help you commit what amounts to treason at the Pentagon of all places!?”, Steve sounded upset. And he had a point, but Tony was undeterred.  
“Well, when you put it that way, yes,” Tony agreed, grinning.  
Natasha chose then to voice her opinion, “Captain, what we're trying to do is figure out the source of the spying. Right now, it's a bit too widespread. This might be our best chance at narrowing the field somewhat. We won't be doing anything with any information that does not pertain to Stark Industries, Dr. Banner, or the Avengers.”

“How would that work, exactly?” Steve wanted to know. Natasha finished off her omelet, giving Clint a quick thank you before answering the super soldier.  
“We'll run the same kind of program Tony did when he got on the helicarrier. What we'll do is have you, accompanied by myself and Clint, and we'll take care of all that while you do your thing as an American icon,” she explained.  
Clint hmmed from beside her. “Chauffeur, I assume. Not like Rogers needs a bodyguard in this situation.” He got up and gathered the empty dishes to take back to the kitchen.

“Where's Bruce this morning?” Pepper asked, finishing her own breakfast.  
“Sleeping off a late night?” Tony guessed, “He got a call to go meet a friend of his last night while we were at dinner. Told me to 'not wait up'. As if.”  
“Unusual,” Tasha softly said, drinking the last of her orange juice. She left the table when she was done, taking her glass back to the kitchen where Clint was cleaning up.

“You're so handsome being domestic,” she quipped, curling into his side.  
“You're lucky I love you, Red,” he was flippant in return, but smiling, taking the proffered glass to rinse and put in the dishwasher.  
“Stark doesn't do anything by half, does he?”, she asked, indicating the industrial, chromed kitchen surrounds. She leaned on one counter to watch him work.  
“Hah, no. What's up? Change in the plan?”, Clint queried.  
“No, something about Bruce though. He went out last night.” Clint raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Tasha went on, “Exactly who are his friends right now?”  
“Oh, damn,” Clint said, hands coming to rest on the edge of the counter at the sink.  
“We'll see. If he's not around by lunch time, well, it's an all-call,” Tasha confirmed.

They went about their day, Natasha to her PA duties, and Clint down to security. This gave him a chance to check over when Bruce had left the Tower the night before. He received a text from Tasha not long after he'd started his video search, telling him that JARVIS had something from the event. He opened a second window on his computer, querying the AI from his station and they exchanged a text based conversation on what had happened with the good doctor. Clint also checked on whether Bruce was in the Tower at all at that moment. When the negative was confirmed, he called Tasha, and requested a luncheon meeting.  
“To go over a new plan for the garage level surveillance system,” he told her, for the benefit of the rest of the security team scattered around him.  
“Of course Mr. Artison. How does 12:30 sound?” Tasha neatly replied, grateful there was nothing on the schedule that day she'd have to shuffle.  
“See you then.” And he caught good-natured ribbing from the rest of the department for the next 15 minutes.

 

Clint leaves for lunch just a few minutes before he's to meet with Natalie, completely clearing his computer's work history before shutting it down. Being compulsively paranoid has only saved his skin about a dozen times, so its worth the extra steps. He saunters out of the security barn and checks to see if Natalie is in the lobby yet. She's not, so he goes to the elevators and punches the up button. Once inside, and thankfully alone in the car, he can use his passcard to trigger the security protocols to let him push the button for Pepper's floor. Only the team has access, besides Jason Thomas, his second and a few other department heads. The ride up is quiet, not even muzak to distract him. When he reaches the right floor, he steps off to see Natalie coming towards him, something of a look of chagrin on her face. He does love the way she moves though, the spiky 5” black heels giving her hips more sway than normal. The black pencil skirt and gray blouse she put on that morning make up the rest of the outfit, keeping her demure, but gorgeous. It made his heart race, and his sky blue eyes soften with love.

“Mr. Artison, I'm so glad you got my message. We'll have to take a working lunch, if that's all right?”, she points back at the elevator he'd come out of.  
“No problem, Miss Rushman, Level 8?”, Clint assures her, pressing the car call button again. She nods acceptance and they leave the floor.

“JARVIS? Upstairs please,” Tasha commands once they are both safely ensconced in the elevator.  
“Of course Miss Romanov,” the AI says as the car moves upwards.  
“So, he never came back last night?” she asks. Clint shakes his head in denial. “Great. JARVIS, sound the all-call. This is now a rescue mission,” Natasha shifted personas from bubbly Natalie Rushman to deadly Black Widow in the space of that sentence. Clint's own happy-go-lucky attitude switched off for the impersonal mask he wore as Hawkeye.

By the time the elevator reached the 89th floor, the rest of the team is in the meeting room, dressed for action. Well, Steve was. Tony was simply wearing dark, stone wash jeans and a Led Zeppelin tee over a navy colored, long sleeve shirt that minimized the glow from the arc in his chest.  
“So, what's up, spy twins?”, Tony asked, leaning casually against a wall. His indolent posture hid the tension strumming through his body. He knew Banner was missing, and that it could only mean bad things.  
“We've confirmed that Dr. Banner did go out last night, and never returned. We need to follow the lead to the location he was called to and see what we can shake loose,” Natasha explained.  
“All right then, let's suit up,” Tony pushed away from the wall to walk out of the room.

“Wait Tony,” Steve called, “I'm not sure figurative guns blazing will work here.” He turned to Tasha and Clint, “Were you able to get any intel on this location?”  
“Thought you'd never ask. JARVIS?” Clint settled into his chair, and asked the AI for the files he'd compiled that morning. The files came up, and Clint sent them to the projection screen and everyone else's place for viewing.

“At approximately 7:30 last night, Bruce got a message via JARVIS that someone had tried to reach him through the Tower's phone system. It appears, from recorded conversation just minutes later, to have been Dr. Elizabeth Ross.” Tony sat down in the nearest chair, surprised. Clint flicked open a separate file, composed solely of information on Dr. Ross. Highlighted was the tidbit of her relationship to Bruce, and her father, General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross. Clint went on, “They chose to meet at this location, the Bar and Stripes. Street cameras have Bruce entering the bar, but not leaving. There's an odd vehicle sighting in the back of the place around 9:00, with several individuals, but no specific sign of Bruce. As the name implies, this bar is a popular hang out with servicemen, current or former. Owner is former Army, by the name of John Allen.” And another file opens in front of Betty Ross's, this time of a military record.  
“Bank records show Mr. Allen had previously been behind on the mortgage on the building, as well as behind on many of the related bills for the business. Then, just today, he's come current,” Nat reads off the pertinent info that she spent time on that morning.

“So, what do we need to do then? Can't send in the IRS, they'd take too long,” Tony quipped. He was clearly worried, but trying to hold himself back. He needed these two for his best chance at finding Bruce.  
“No, we send Steve,” Clint said, eyeing Steve for a solid minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back on the normal, one chapter a week schedule next weekend.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer/Author's Note: Same as Chapter 14. We're under continued trigger warnings still. Please proceed with caution.

Captain America walked into a bar, on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, dressed in his newly updated Class B Captain's uniform.  
The bartender immediately saluted him, welcoming him. “Captain Rogers! Wow, never thought I'd see you in my tiny place. What can I get you?” John Allen is a man of medium build, and well defined muscles. His brown hair kept in the usual 'high and tight' ubiquitous of all male military service members. He had sparkling green eyes in a face that only seemed to carry the usual worries of a business man, rather than someone who had something to hide.

“Well sir,” Steve said, after returning the salute with a smile, “I came looking for a friend of mine. But I'll take a soda while we talk.” He settled on a bar stool in the middle of the length of the hardwood and chrome bar and pulled off his cap to set beside his arms on the bar's top.  
“A friend huh? Military or?”, Allen asked, reaching for a glass to get ice and the soda gun. He put the full glass in front of Steve.  
“No, not military. He met a girl here last night though,” was the easy reply, as Steve sipped his drink. Allen began to fidget, trying to find things behind his bar to clean or move around.  
“I don't keep track of things of that nature, Captain. My own version of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell',” he laughed, shifting a few high ball glasses uneasily.  
“I understand that. Your business stops with the drinks and food, not with people's personal lives. But the thing is, I have reason to believe my friend is in trouble. You know I can't just ignore a buddy in trouble,” Steve explained, rolling the now half empty glass between his palms. He hinted at well known parts of his own past – the inability to leave any man of his behind being key.  
“Yes sir, I get that,” Allen said, still nervously shifting glassware. Fortunately for them, or for Allen in particular, the rest of the bar was empty at that time of day, being between shifts.

“So this friend of yours, what's he look like?” Allen finally asked. Steve described Bruce, down to the outfit he'd worn of a pale purple button down shirt and faded brown khakis.  
“Sorry Captain, there wasn't anyone fitting that description last night.”  
“Now son,” Steve started, “Let's try again.” And he reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out a group of papers folded into quarters. Clint and Natasha had explained that John Allen would likely try to lie, and had provided a few printouts for Steve to use to pressure the man. Steve unfolded the pages onto the bar and turned them to face the bartender.

John Allen gulped and went pale. The top page was his most recent financials. Steve flipped it aside to show street camera stills of Bruce and Betty both outside, then turned that to show a new still of the gray van.  
“Want to think about it?” Steve said, splaying the pages out, side by side on the wood grain surface of the bar. He placed his wide, strong hands flat on either side of the series of pages, as a warning. Allen looked down, not able to meet his hero's eyes.  
“You have to understand, I had to do this,” he said after several long minutes. “General Ross is not someone you can ignore or cross, ever. Dr Ross had me prepare special drinks for Banner. For safety, she said.” Allen shook his head, “I've heard the stories. I was here during the invasion by those aliens. The Rosses need to leave well enough alone.”  
“Well soldier, we're going to fix that, right now,” Steve said. His right hand came off the bar and dipped into a pocket. He pulled out an odd looking device, and pushed a single button to speak into it.  
“Okay team, let's assemble here,” he called, then released the button.

 

The door to the bar opened and the rest of the Avengers wandered in. Clint and Tasha moved behind the bar and Tony took up a position by the door, flipping the lock and turning off the neon OPEN sign. He was the only one not uniformed, the team was too conspicuous with the other three as it was. The armor would cause unnecessary damage to the place besides. Tony had brought a pair of Stark tablets, which he promptly put on the nearest table and commanded JARVIS's attention.

“J-man, run that forensic scanning program we wrote on the way over, see if it picks up anything on Banner,” he said to his AI.  
“Right away, sir” came the reduced volume reply.

Clint searched the bar, while Tasha questioned Allen. “Tell me everything about this deal, 'pigeon',” she purred, subtly moving him out of his place and over to a booth to sit. Steve gathered his papers back up, grabbed his cap and went to join Tony.  
“This General Ross, who is he?” he asked the billionaire.  
“Major trouble for Banner,” Tony replied, “No pun intended.” He grinned a shark's grin. “He is the one that wanted to recreate the super soldier for the modern era. Tapped Banner, thinking the gamma was part of it? I'm unclear on that. Or his daughter had something to do with Bruce's involvement. When the work went south, Ross suddenly had it in for our favorite rage monster.”

Steve could hear anger building in Tony's voice as he described this General. “And can we do anything to stop him?” Steve then wanted to know.  
“Been thinking about that for awhile now. Not sure what to do at this point. My last conversation obviously did not make much of an impact. Knew I should have made sure he was still in the bar when the bulldozers arrived,” Tony growled, slapping the tabletop in frustration.  
“We'll work on that when we find Bruce, I promise you,” Steve swore. Bruce was his own man, and did not need someone hunting him for sport, or a misplaced sense of ownership.

Clint had disappeared into the back of the bar, and found where the bar trash had been taken to the nearby dumpster. “Hey Widow, ask our boy where the materials for the drug went,” he called back to his partner.  
Tasha turned to the bar owner, “You heard the man.”  
John Allen sighed, twiddling his fingers in a bar towel. “Under the boxes of soda syrup,” he admitted. Clint found a heavy, dark plastic bag holding two canisters, a bottle of cheap vodka, and a half a bottle of tonic water. Clint dragged it out to show the others. Tasha scoffed at the choice of vodka, but otherwise made no comment. Steve and Tony took the whole bag and had a brief discussion on who'd get it back to the Tower for testing.

Tasha finished her interview with Allen. “I cannot promise there will be nothing further. But do not leave town, as they say in the police dramas,” she said as she stepped away from the booth. He nodded, accepting her words as benediction.

“Captain Rogers?” he called to Steve before they left. Steve paused, but didn't look back. “For what its worth, I hope you find him.”  
“For your sake son, pray we do. Otherwise, well, we ARE the Avengers,” and the team left the ex-soldier to ponder and pray.

 

Tony, once back at the Tower, quickly retreated to his lab to run chemical analyses on the materials Clint had recovered, as well as seeing what JARVIS had parsed from his scans of the bar. Tasha and Clint went over the video recording of her interview with Allen. Steve was at loose ends, not having the skills for this sort of work. Pepper watched him, then quietly whispered, “They'll need food, and probably lots of coffee to keep going until Bruce comes home. Why don't I start by ordering pizza? Go start the coffee pot, and make it strong.” Steve nodded, and headed for the communal kitchen. Pepper ordered several pizzas, even knowing they wouldn't all be eaten at once. The variety of toppings was there to cover tastes she didn't know, and extra would be on hand for leftovers.

 

Steve ended up delivering food to each working group, including Pepper, who'd ensconced herself in the dining room to work on reports and other SI ephemera. Clint and Tasha were alternately running the video through a continuous loop, watching captions, the bar owner's facial expression and posture and making copious notes on whatever they were finding. Tony was throwing himself around his chem lab, working through multiple tests of all the evidence they'd brought back. He'd even had JARVIS run up the Tesseract hunting program to see if they could pinpoint Banner that way. But since Bruce didn't actually emit Gamma radiation outside of spilt blood, it was a horrible longshot.

Just as Steve was leaving the lab however...”Sir? The Gamma tracker has picked up a trace in the warehouse section of the Garment District. Triangulating GPS coordinates now.”  
“Gamma?” Steve turned to Tony.  
“Yeah. Hoped I wouldn't need it though. Dammit. Let's get the spy kids and go get us a rage monster,” Tony chugged the hot coffee he'd picked up, ignoring the plate of pizza slices perched in a cleaned off area of a lab table. Steve nodded and preceded him out of the lab to the elevator.

They gathered up Clint and Tasha, who'd finished dissecting the video interview. “What did you learn?” they asked each other, moving together towards the elevator to head to the garage. Clint waved Natasha to start.

 

 ***Brief Warning for Mental Torture***  
“Someone, possibly her father, reprogrammed Dr. Ross's mind. Where she used to respect, and even love Bruce, now she sees him as an interesting specimen, or series of experiments. She's also got a new fixation on her father, desperately wants to please him. John Allen knew of the Rosses, but did not serve with the General. This was, he was convinced, a way to control the monster, a 'mistake of science' had created. He had been told it was a service to his country,” she explained, frost lacing her voice so much the boys expected to see and feel the air around them get much colder.

“Huh, wonder what worked over the other good doctor, to make her the mad scientist?” Tony quipped.  
“A host of things, Stark,” Clint elected to explain, saving Tasha from dealing with more than just the old memories from the Red Room. “Pills, torture, mind control devices...” he didn't need to go on.  
“JARVIS and I ran the Gamma tracker program, and,” Tony sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair in frustration.  
“It was always a possibility,” Tasha softly said. They all nodded, grim faced.

***Brief part over***

Down in the garage, they got into an SUV Tony owned and hardly used, and peeled out, Clint driving like a mad man. They managed the cross town traffic in an amazing ten minutes without incurring notice from the NYPD, or scaring cabbies. Tony described the building and its surrounds. Clint was happy there would be easy ways of getting the intel needed to rescue Bruce. 

The warehouse was like its neighbors, a squat construct of steel and concrete that functioned in the industrial area, hidden behind the modern flash and glitz of the Garment District. They parked half a block away. Clint ran off, bow in hand, quiver thumping on his back, to find roof access to get eyes on the building. Tony grabbed out the flat packed Mark V he'd rebuilt after Monaco and found a sheltered spot to wait, impatiently, for the call on the comms. Tasha and Steve moved on foot to the building to get a closer look and be ready when Clint called. 

“I'm in place,” came Hawkeye's voice on the comms, “Thermal scope gives me 5 bodies, and I can't tell where Banner might be. I will need to move. Isn't there a secondary room in this place?” He got an affirmative. “All right, moving around to that side of the building.” Once he had, he was able to see that Banner was indeed in the building. Bruce's body temperature ran consistently hotter than most people's, and Tony had surmised it was because of the Gamma. “Switching scopes,” he told them at last, which was a signal that they were nearly ready to go.  
Tony was cursing in the background, “You know I hate this damn plan. Why the hell aren't we charging in?”  
“Because we know good and well that a knife to the throat is quicker than any of us,” Steve barked from the shadow of the back of the building.  
“Both of you, quiet,” Widow snarled. She'd managed to get inside and was up in the rafters and roof trusses, and was trying to concentrate on the job before her. 

While she didn't normally perform long range take downs, in this case, it would be easier, quieter. She moved along the exposed beam, quiet as a mouse, until she got to the center of the building, where she crouched in the shadows. “I'm in position. Can confirm five people minimum. Eyes on Ross, female,” she reported, voice tight and clipped. 

“JARVIS, put in a call to Agent Sitwell, inform him of the situation and that we're cleaning up,” Tony said, activating the armor.  
“Yes sir,” came the tinny reply. The collapsible armor enfolded Tony and powered up. But still, he waited. He hated it, but saw the sense of it. He could not always respond as if his house was on fire to every situation. Learning team dynamics would be difficult, he knew, but worth it in the end. 

“Confirm Widow's check. Cannot see Banner. Presume he's in the smaller room. Moving to target,” Hawkeye came back.  
“Signal when ready for go,” Capt. America called. He stood by the roll up door, at ease even though in costume, he would draw attention like flies to honey. Somehow that area was devoid of other people. The circular shield hung casually from it's strap against his back, letting him present a less offensive image that could change in an instant. 

Less than five minutes after Hawkeye moved his position, “Ready for go. Iron Man? Let's rock.” 

And the windows and doors to the warehouse exploded inwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I cliffed again. Sorry!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – we're still in that section of TRIGGER WARNINGS. Violence, gore, blood in this one. Please proceed with caution! Also, warnings for curse words. I may have forgotten that in the past.

Glass showered down onto the concrete floor, surprising Betty, Leeds and the three silent guards. They stood in the main room of the warehouse, working on coordinating a pickup from the Hulkbusters.

One of the guards dropped from an arrow to the neck. Leeds screamed, his voice high pitched in shock. He hit the floor, freaked out of his mind. Hawkeye and Widow immediately discounted him, from the fight.

The rolling door caved in under two of Captain America's shield strikes, allowing Iron Man to rip it away and stomp in, repulsors whirring and aiming for threats.

Betty Ross pulled a gun from under her lab coat and started firing. She was a wild shot at best.

“Watch it! Dr Ross can't aim!”, cried Cap.  
“Where's Banner?”, demanded Iron Man. The remaining two guards fought with Cap, refusing to close with him. Gunshots echoed in the warehouse, ricochets flying everywhere and making every bullet a potential killer.

Black Widow took out one of Cap's opponents. Cap took care of his last opponent, using the shield as a bludgeon to knock the brute unconscious.

Iron Man moved forward on Betty. “Where. Is. Banner?”, he snarled, each word emphasized as he clunked closer, a repulsor menacing her.  
“The monster? Worthless trash,” she spit, holding the .22 on him, uselessly, “In there. Don't know what Daddy saw in him. Don't know what I saw in him before.” A single gun shot rang out then, and Betty screamed, collapsing to the floor. Blood spurted from a thigh wound. The gun clattered to the floor.

“Hawkeye, fly down here and help me find Banner!”, Iron Man called.  
“On it!” came the reply. The two SHIELD agents left their perches and made their way to the warehouse floor.

Natasha pulled zip ties from one of her belt pouches to use as cuffs on the prisoners and took delight in securing each of them. She used Betty's lab coat to create a makeshift bandage for the thigh wound. Her handling was not gentle. Leeds remained unresponsive, having gone catatonic at the start of the firefight. She tied him up anyway. The surviving guard was out cold, but again, Tasha took no chances and hog tied the man. She fleeced each prisoner, checking for hidden weapons anywhere it was possible to hide something without resorting to a strip search. Cap came to stand an uneasy watch as Widow finished up. She hadn't turned up any hidden weapons, which relaxed her minutely.

“Iron Man called SHIELD,” he informed her.  
“Good, they can handle this мусор*,” she spat, very angry. Betrayal had been normal in her old life, but since coming to SHIELD, it was something she despised. Brainwashing was worse in her book, since finding trust and love in Clint and Phil. Her early years in the Red Room were the stuff of horror stories and nightmares, and she preferred to keep the monsters at a distance.

 

Hawkeye and Iron Man crossed the warehouse, the armor's boots drawing sparks off the concrete. The smaller, walled off section had a padlocked door that Clint took time to pick. He addressed Tony while he did so.  
“Tony, you need to be prepared for what's on the other side of this door,” he started, thin picks gently teasing the tumbler of the lock.  
“Look,” Tony tried to break in.

“No, you look. I know about Afghanistan. But that happened **to you**. Now you care about someone else. It's different. VERY different, this time. Banner's going to be fucked up from this, and it may take all of us to bring him back. You WILL tell us if you need help, get me?”, Clint spoke from experience, and knew that torture changed people. Some SHIELD agents never came back from their own personal hells. He was lucky, and knew it.

The padlock sprung open, and Clint quickly removed it. Before he opened the door, he glanced at Tony in the armor. “I'm going to suggest you get out of that. If the Hulk hasn't made an appearance by now, he's not going to. Get in there, and start helping Bruce to come home,” he said, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open.  
“We've got eyes on Banner. If SHIELD's coming, best they bring medical along, he needs it,” Hawkeye made a simple report.  
Tony shed the suit, letting it collapse on itself as he stepped out of the legs.  
“Oh God, Bruce, I'm here. You need to let the Hulk out,” he began talking as soon as he hit the door. Bruce was cuffed naked to a metal chair situated over a grate in the floor. His arms and legs were bloody from the skinning; the bloody rents of flesh laying in heaps on a table beside the man. Both Clint and Tony ignored the gristly chunks and used tools to focus on the imprisoned physicist before them. Tony didn't run to him, not wanting to startle him, but moved quickly to his friend's side. Clint quietly moved around to one side to work on freeing Bruce.  
“Bruce, c'mon, do you hear me? It's okay. I'm here. I think you need to let the Hulk out, to start healing this up. We have work to do back at the Tower. Or we can book out to the mountains to let Big Green play for awhile. You wanted to start that series to learn more about him, right?” Tony rambled. He wished for medical supplies right then. He shrugged out of his shirt and started ripping it up. The sound made Bruce jump and groan from the pain as he jerked against his restraints. Clint patiently waited for his chance to get to the cuffs and unlock them.

Tony slowly bent down to tend to Bruce's wounds. “Let's let Clint get you out of these cuffs, Big Guy, then we'll stabilize you before going home, all right?”, he spoke as if to a small child, or terrified animal. Neither creature he had experience with. But in this, he had to try. Bruce was worth any and all effort. Bruce's head lolled to the right, his eyes fluttering as he tried to focus on Tony. Those eyes faded between brown and green in an odd, flickering pattern.  
“To?” Bruce's voice was practically non-existant, he only managed the first syllable of Tony's name. Clint got one cuff undone and Bruce half sobbed in relief as his arm came free from its cocked position behind his back. Tony carefully caught that hand and gently touched a scrap of torn tee to the forearm. Bruce grunted, flinching.  
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I want to help. Please, can I help you?”, Tony murmured, having gone still.  
Clint freed Bruce's other arm, but gently rotated back into its proper place. He quietly left the pair alone to check if anyone from SHIELD had yet arrived.  
Bruce's eyes found Tony's face, the odd color flickering continuing as he tried to focus. “Tony,” he grunted.  
“Yeah buddy, I'm right here. We'll get through this together, okay? I promise. I will be right with you,” Tony swore to the physicist.

 

Clint found a med team out in the main part of the warehouse. Sitwell had brought the proverbial cavalry, putting a pair of choppers on nearby roofs. He was being briefed by Tasha and Steve when Clint grabbed up the EMT agents.  
“You two with me. We have a situation in this other room. Torture, victim was skinned over 70% of his body. There is also a radiation warning. This is Dr. Banner, so proceed accordingly. Iron Man is with him. Full recovery protocols. Treat this as if he were one of us, got it?”, Clint was harsh, promising without words, dire things if more harm came to the gentle doctor.

The quad of people reached the room, and found Tony on his knees before Bruce, still trying to use the tattered shirt as a means of stopping the oozing blood all over the man's body.  
“Tony, I've got medical here. Stay there, give Bruce something to focus on, okay?”, Clint called, before letting the 3 agents into the room. Tony nodded, a short, sharp jerking of his head, his voice a soft murmur to those in the doorway. Bruce twitched, trying to shrink in on himself. A gentle touch from Tony stopped him.

The medically trained SHIELD agents moved forward, slow and obvious in all their movements. They used large, thin sheets to control the loss of fluids, wrapping Bruce's limbs up as though they were mummifying him. They gently taped the ends down, trying not to use too much pressure. One found a place high on Bruce's chest, near the left clavicle to insert a PICC line and hook up antibiotics and fluids to further stabilize him.  
“We need a gurney in here,” one told the two Avengers. Clint nodded and called Natasha via the comms. She brought the gurney and made no other comment as to the state of affairs before her. Tony and Clint were the ones to get Bruce loaded onto the gurney, as he flinched and shook every time one of the medics got within a foot of him after wrapping his limbs. Tony kept up a steady stream of chatter, reciting algorithms that made up the programs for the armor.

Tasha grabbed the Mark 5 armor when she left, telling Steve they needed to get to the New York facility. Sitwell had the prisoners bundled onto one helicopter and away from the warehouse before the others emerged from the smaller room.

Only the SHIELD members were truly prepared for the sight of the marks on Bruce's face, the only part of him still visible as they wheeled him out. The medics had managed to wrap enough gauze around his torso to limit the blood loss, and a blanket provided cover from further exposure.  
Steve had seen photos from the end of World War 2, including the liberations of the concentration camps, but hadn't seen anything yet on Korea or Vietnam, which had been much uglier conflicts. No one had yet had the heart to put him through his own torture training, though several in SHIELD expected it would come. Seeing Bruce though, Steve turned white as the star on his chest, but he did not shrink from his teammate. He would never.

No, Captain Steve Rogers, US Army, moved forward, stopping the gurney briefly. “Bruce, I'm sorry it took us so long to find you. You'll be good as new in no time,” he told his friend and teammate. Bruce's heterochromic eyes caught his blue ones and the doctor and gamma creature just blinked in silent acceptance. Tony went with the SHIELD medics on the second chopper. Sitwell stayed with the rest of the Avengers in the warehouse.  
“All right, Romanov and Rogers have briefed me. Barton, what can you provide?”, he ordered.  
Clint gave him everything he had seen in the other room.  
“Sounds like we need a forensic team down here as well. All right, report to the Hudson facility and get your reports on my desk by tomorrow,” he told the team, dismissing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - Russian for refuse, trash.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Still in effect. The trauma is beginning to lessen, but it is still present. I will do what I can to warn when I mention something horrible, but please, just take it as said, that you need to be careful until I say otherwise.

Tony convinced the medics that Bruce needed to be in a large, open area, instead of Medical, for the eventual appearance of the Hulk. The lead medic argued the irregularity until Tony pointed out the potential losses in necessary equipment. If it was just the one set of monitors, much easier to replace than a whole facility's, was Tony's point.

The lead medic, Ashwhite, called ahead to the Hudson base, and had a room prepared. Tony sent a quick email via the Starkphone in his pocket to Pepper, giving her the guardedly good news. He also mentioned that he'd be with SHIELD for the foreseeable future, at least until Bruce was ready to be released. Pepper's reply was just a request to keep her updated.

 

Once at SHIELD, several doctors and nurses converged on the pair to get Bruce settled more comfortably.  
“Mr. Stark, can you tell me why he hasn't transformed?”, one asked tetchily, as if he couldn't be bothered to do any work right then.  
“Who're you?”, Tony snapped, rounding on the man, immediately defensive.  
“Dr. Ralph Throckmorton. I was told he has regenerative capabilities when he shifts into that...”  
“Don't you DARE say it. GET OUT,” Tony forcefully interrupted the ignorant man. They did not need this, not now. “Where the hell is Fury?”, Tony snarled, hands balled up, advancing on the balding, overweight man in scrubs.  
“The Director is NOT your errand boy, Mr. Stark,” Throckmorton tried to diffuse.  
“If he doesn't want to scrape you off,”  
“Enough Stark. Throckmorton, out,” Fury's deep voice rolled down the corridor ahead of the man himself. Throckmorton paled and fled, fearing for his life. He should have held higher regard for his career.

“I swear to God, Fury, ditch every single medical person in the entire organization who's ever thought of Bruce or Hulk as a monster,” Tony wasn't sure what he had to threaten the man with, but he was going to find something.  
“Cool your jets, Stark. There's no one else. Ashwhite's being turned around as we speak. Sitwell gave me a head's up, but Throckmorton's question is valid,” Fury's words did little to calm Tony.

The engineer stood beside the bed they had ensconced Bruce into after getting off the chopper, hands gripping the safety rails tight enough that his knuckles were white. “His trust's destroyed, Fury. That I'm this close is a miracle. I don't claim to understand him, the Hulk or their relationships with either Ross, but for Betty to have done this?”, one hand released from the rail to gesture helplessly at the still, unconscious form of the doctor. “I think she was his reason for being, through everything that happened in New Mexico, and at Culver, and even until now. You ever have that stripped away?”, Tony sounded lost. This he had experience in, too much in fact. Fury wisely said nothing. They waited for Ashwhite to arrive.

The EMT appeared, clipboard of test results in hand, grim look on his face. “Well, the drug in his system is going to take another 8 to 12 hours to metabolize on its own. Our chemists are working to neutralize it now, based on the sample we gave them. The wounds will be treated, but otherwise I don't suggest trying to close them. If he could transform,” and here the man trailed off.  
“Is it the drug?”, Tony asked.  
“We don't think so, but this one is new. We'll keep him at least lightly sedated for the next 24 hours until the foreign drug's run its course. Shall I bring in a chair or something for you, Mr. Stark?” Ashwhite explained.  
“Anything will work. Where's the rest of the team, Fury?”, Tony's manner was borderline rude. Ashwhite ignored it, having dealt with tetchy agents who hated Medical, for many years.  
“Wrapping up the warehouse, Stark. They'll be here. I'll return when they do,” and the Director left them alone.

Ashwhite arranged for Stark's relative comfort, then saw to his patient. A Geiger counter appeared in the room, its crackling confirming the fact that Bruce's wounds were still open and bleeding. Portable oxygen sat behind the bed, helping Banner breathe via tubes hooked over his ears and the cannula in his nose. The heart monitor kept careful track of that organ. The steady beeps were even more reassuring than the Geiger.

Tony first noticed the others when the scent of fresh coffee invaded the room. He'd not heard any footsteps, so lost in his own head as he was.  
“Here, Tony,” Steve proffered a cup.  
“Thanks, Cap,” Tony took the styro cup of black liquid and practically inhaled it. It was strong, just the way Tony preferred it.  
“How is he?”, Nat whispered, as if speaking louder might disturb the fragile peace of the room. Or call upon the Hulk.  
“Bad. We need the Hulk, but there's a drug that's probably interfering,” Tony slumped in the chair, scrubbing hands through his dark hair.  
“He'll pull through Tony. How are you doing, do you need anything?”, Steve said, acting the concerned leader, and friend.  
Tony sighed, “I'm staying here until he's ready to come home. If the Tower was set up for this,” he waved a hand to indicate the medical paraphernalia. Clint and Nat shared a look.  
“That can be changed,” she said, not really offering any promises. It was Stark's property, after all, they could only make suggestions.  
“It's on my list of things to change, Natasha. For the Tower, and the mansion. We can't keep running to SHIELD forever,” Tony admitted. It was something of a plan in his head. Quarters for all of them, specialized training gyms, all of it. Just, right now, Bruce had all of his focus.

“All right. We'll stay here at the Hudson facility until we can take Bruce back home. And we'll take turns with him so he's never alone, and no one's overburdened. No sense running any one of us ragged,” Steve neatly overrode Tony's half formed protests. Tony glared at Rogers, wishing for some way to kick them all out so he could take care of Bruce on his own.  
“We're a team, Stark,” Clint grunted from his spot against the wall. They were all tired, and arguing would solve nothing. They needed downtime, soon.  
“Fine, do what you want,” Tony folded. Clint grinned. They left him to the first shift of the “Bruce watch”, letting Tony stew over his completely mixed up emotions and screwed up thoughts.

 

Eventually, Tony pulled out his phone to talk with JARVIS via text. He didn't think SHIELD would appreciate the AI's presence right then, not after the last hacking incident.  
 _J-man, what in hell am I doing?_ \- Tony  
 _Rhetorically, sir?_ \- JARVIS  
 _Funny man. Seriously, Pepper?_ \- Tony  
 _Is a most understanding woman, sir. Will it break her heart, a certainty. But, she'd accept it was the right thing._ \- JARVIS  
 _Can I do that to **him**?_ And the AI hesitates with his answer. Then queued up a bit of security video he'd recorded just the previous day.  
 _Sir, watch this._ And the video played of Tony's nightmare while sleeping in Bruce's guest room. The care that Bruce took with Tony, including keeping him safely held after the fact, surprised the engineer.  
 _Why?_ \- Tony  
 _Didn't he say anything? Perhaps you would make light of it? Or maybe that he believes he doesn't deserve anything in return?_ \- JARVIS

Tony put the phone down to think. He cared for Pepper, she brought order to his chaos in a way no one ever had before. But was that truly something to build a life long relationship on? Was it fair to her that he chain her to him, well, chain anyone really, who didn't know, or couldn't deal with everything that made up Anthony Edward Stark? Sure they had great sex together, but he knew from the failure of his parents' relationship that it took more than that old sack race to keep the spark alive long term. He knew that arguing over the super hero thing, or the company, was also no way to live life.

But. Could he convince Bruce that he deserved a chance? At of all things, Tony knew he was interested in more than just pleasures of the flesh anymore. His conversations with Banner alone gave him plenty of fantasies. And to work with the man? Made him hot and bothered for hours. Well, it was a new project, he supposed. After he talked with Pepper.

He sat, staring at Bruce, for several hours until one of the other Avengers came to try and relieve him.

“Tony? Why don't you go get some rest? I'll stay with him,” Natasha had come. She stood in the doorway of the storage-cum-medical room, wearing a pair of too big, faded sweats and soft looking cashmere sweater in gray. He turned his head to look at her, rather than just watch her from the corner of his eye.  
“I'm fine,” he tried to insist. She huffed, not believing him.  
“At least go for a shower and some food?”, Nat persisted, “He won't wake while you're gone.”  
“You know that for a certainty?” Tony was carefully suspicious.  
“I looked at his record. The sedative they have him on will keep him out for another 4 hours, minimum. It was so the other drug and his injuries didn't cause him any more pain,” she told Stark the truth. The last thing they needed was him running off with Bruce because someone decided a lie was better to tell him.  
Tony caught her gaze, and looked hard, evaluating. She left her expression open and neutral, a rarity, but necessary. Whatever he found, it satisfied him because he nodded and stood up.  
“You could talk to him. Let him know he's safe,” he whispered as his passed. She only nodded in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Separately, I've noticed that I may have, in the past, used 'it's/its' wrong in multiple places (both here, and in other stories). I can't say that I'm going to adjust the text to reflect the correct usage, but I will be doing my best to fix it from here on out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still in that dark time, folks. We are slowly (like molasses in January, in the Arctic) climbing out of it. But still, I ENCOURAGE you, proceed with caution. See the bottom of the chapter for some news!

Tony's shower was swift, barely more than a sluicing down. Clint loaned him fresh clothes until Happy could bring around a bag for him. He went to find Steve and Clint afterward, hoping for a distraction to calm his mind. They were in Clint's room, talking quietly about the situation.  
“Sitwell is handling the interrogations, Fury's with him. Dr. Ross is in Medical for tests,” Clint was saying as Tony knocked on the outer door, “Come in!” Tony walked into the room, nearly a shambling, exhausted mess.   
“Natasha's with Bruce?”, Steve wanted to know, confirm that Bruce was not alone. He got a nod in reply as Tony shuffled in place.  
“Sit before you fall, Stark. Jeez, you'd think this had been a week long OP or something,” Clint snarked, waving the other man to grab a seat.  
Tony glared, while sitting, collapsing, on the remaining chair in the room.  
“Have you eaten yet?” Steve checked with Tony, solicitously, concerned for the health of all of his team.  
“Just the cup of coffee you brought me. Not hungry though,” Tony admitted, scruffing a hand across the back of his neck. Clint nods, half expecting that answer. He's the same way with Tasha, or with Phil, before.  
“Fury tells us that we're welcome to stay for as long as necessary. The doctor and her accomplices will be dealt with here,” Clint informs Tony quietly. Tony closes his eyes, and sighs deeply, accepting the news.  
“Good. Will we be kept in the loop throughout, or is Fury going to try and block that?”, the engineer asked. It was a good question, and they deserved the decency of knowing what SHIELD was doing with Dr. Ross.  
“As the information comes available, we'll be informed. Sitwell isn't sure Dr. Ross is going to give up useful info until they figure out what's been done to her. He's working on the mook and lab coat, right now,” Clint explained.  
“Shady government agency is useful,” Tony said, jokingly, wringing his hands together. He really needed something to fiddle with.  
Clint laughed, a dark sound, “Yeah well, we can do what the other agencies can't, remember that.”  
Tony and Steve nodded thoughtfully. SHIELD's ability to ignore Geneva protocols as it suited it, was both a blessing, and curse. And they were fortunate to be on SHIELD's good side.

After a bit, Tony abruptly stood. “I need to get back,” his voice was getting rough with the exhaustion slipping through his body. He was actively fighting asleep now.  
“Have you talked to Pepper? Let her know what's going on?” Steve asked one final question, trying to keep Tony focused.  
“She knows we have Bruce back, and that he needs medical attention. I'll talk to her again once Bruce is awake,” Stark said from the doorway.  
“Well, call if you need one of us,” Steve called after him as he watched the former playboy disappear around the corner. Tony waved acknowledgment as he left.

“Well, we'll definitely have to keep an eye on him,” Steve told Clint, in a conspiratorial fashion. Clint nodded agreement. Tony was liable to run himself into the ground with worry and he would need someone to make sure he took care of himself, as well as Bruce. Steve eventually left Clint alone to rest, and went to find the gym to burn off adrenaline. Clint sent a quick text to Tasha, letting her know Stark was on his way back, then lay down for a quick nap. He left his hearing aids in, so he wouldn't be caught by surprise by unannounced visitors to his room. It had happened in the past.

 

Tony found the cafeteria in his long walk back, and grabbed another coffee before he went back to the temporary hospital room. He entered that room, finding Ashwhite and a couple of nurses present with Tasha ensconced in the chair he'd vacated earlier.  
“Oh good, Mr. Stark. Saves me from having to find you. I was just telling Agent Romanov about our findings on the suppressive drug in Dr. Banner's system,” Ashwhite looked at Tony, giving him a once over with a gimlet eye. The medic could tell the engineer was tired, but determined to see out the watch on his friend. He also showed considerable signs of stress, not necessarily normal for Tony most days, but he appeared to be collected still. Ashwhite had been given access to both men's files by Fury, so he could determine if Stark was stretched too thin, or if Banner had any other issues that would make treating him difficult.  
“Okay Doc, let'er rip,” Tony said, going to lean against the sole counter in the room. He nodded at Tasha, thanking her for the respite with the motion. She quirked a corner of her mouth in acknowledgment, but otherwise remained focused on Ashwhite. The two nurses worked quietly in the background, tending to the sleeping man.

“It appears the drug was a compound of diazepam, dopamine, propranolol, alprazolam, and an anesthesia. Given Dr. Banner's unique physiology, we think it will be metabolized in another six hours. We can't reverse it, as we can't counteract all of the compound without stressing his heart. We can try giving him adrenaline alone, but can't be sure of its affect, outside of it being a trigger for the Hulk,” Ashwhite explained, a sheaf of papers in one hand that he referred to occasionally. That combination of medicines, save the anesthesia, in small doses, could be beneficial for those suffering from clinical anxiety, in the dosages high enough to contain the Hulk...  
“Damn that's a hell of cocktail. Let's try the adrenaline in four hours. If necessary, I'll inject it, suited up,” Tony offered. He wouldn't let Bruce suffer a moment longer than necessary. The Hulk would ultimately help in this case, and they needed him.  
“I'll think about it,” Ashwhite hedged, unsure whether he wanted any of the Avengers there if they tried to bring Banner around. It was the doctor in him, he supposed. Logically they were the best candidates to handle the situation if it 'went off the rails', contain the Hulk, but he'd have to give the whole thing due consideration. He didn't want to add to his patient load unnecessarily.

Tasha remained silent throughout, but had a simple question, “What if he comes around on his own?”  
“Not possible,” Ashwhite began, only to see her pointing at Bruce, who had begun twitching just a few minutes ago. Ashwhite's eyes went round in surprise. This was incredible! All the chemists' estimates had indicated that Banner would continue to be out for another six hours, 4 at minimum. Apparently their guesses on Banner's metabolism were completely off!  
Tony quickly deposits the half empty coffee cup on the counter, and moves to stand beside the bed, gripping the rails, calling to Bruce softly, “Bruce? C'mon buddy, come back to us.” He reaches for one of the physicist's hands. As he grasped Bruce's left hand, the other man's grip tightened. “Yeah Bruce, it's me. We need to get back to the Tower and finish working on that room for Green Genes,” Tony talked to Bruce, giving the other man something to focus on as he regained consciousness. Bruce's eyes flickered open to half slits, aimlessly tracking around the room. Ashwhite quickly dismisses the two nurses who'd been changing his bandages, and faded to the door himself as a safety precaution.

A single, long, pain filled groan emerged from Bruce, deep and guttural. The others present wondered if this sound presaged an appearance of the Hulk, but Bruce remained, twitching, pink and covered in bandages. His eyes opened fully, and found Tony's hand in his own. He groggily tried to understand the significance of this action.

“His eyes,” Ashwhite breathed, incredulous, drawing Bruce's attention. One iris was a perfect milk chocolate color, and the other, shining, bright emerald green. Nothing in Bruce's SHIELD file had mentioned heterochromia, leaving Ashwhite quite confused by this turn of events. Bruce grumbled, trying to make his voice work.  
“Shh, it's okay Bruce. We're at a SHIELD facility, still in New York. It's over now,” Tony reassured his friend. He'd put his free hand over their clasped pair to redirect Bruce's attention. The odd eyes came to rest on Tony and the visible tension in the man's shoulders eased.  
“Hey big man. Natasha is going to bring you some water, if she pleases,” Tony flicked a glance in her direction, having Bruce follow along to see her sitting in the chair currently beside the foot of the bed. Slowly she nodded, and stood, keeping her hands visible to keep Bruce at his ease.  
“Of course I will, Tony. Bruce, I'll be right back, okay?”, she agreed, focusing directly on the injured man. Bruce's eyes blinked shut, reopening back on Tony's face, dismissing Natasha. She took no offense, just slipped from the room and on her task.  
Ashwhite moved forward. “Dr. Banner, I'm Kent Ashwhite, Physician's Assistant, and in charge of your care,” he introduced himself. Bruce gave a half-hearted glare of warning to the man, forcing him to stop a few feet from the end of the bed. “You should know that the drugs you were on may still be affecting you, so we'll have to monitor you for a bit longer, all right? For now, I'll leave you with Mr. Stark and Agent Romanov,” Ashwhite gave the pair a smile and quickly backed out of the room, only turning his back once he'd passed the threshold.

 

“Don't scare the medicals Banner, that's my job right now,” Tony quipped, looking for levity in the situation.  
“Hn,” Bruce grunted. Natasha reappeared with a covered pitcher and large, lidded, styrofoam cup with a straw.  
“I prepared this myself, so it's contaminant free,” she assured the invalid, putting the pitcher on the counter and bringing the cup to the bedside.  
She handed Tony the cup so she could strip the straw of its protective paper as Bruce watched. Taking the cup back, she deftly inserted the straw and then held the affair close to Bruce's mouth. He greedily sucked the straw into his mouth and slurped down the cool water.

“Easy, You've been dehydrated, and you're on IV fluids now,” Natasha told him. He finished the cup anyway, then spit the straw out.  
“Don't care,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and deeper than normal. “Want out of here,” the volume of his voice got stronger with each word. The syntax was a bit broken, and the others didn't catch anything wrong with it, just thinking Bruce wasn't quite awake and aware.  
“Not yet, Bruce, I'm sorry.” Tony said, watching him flinch with the denial, wishing they could just up and leave. “Can you feel the Hulk? Is he there?” Tony asked, fingers stroking the back of Bruce's hand, in an unconscious soothing gesture.

“Both here. Don't want to be HERE,” there was something about the two statements that got the attention of his teammates.  
“Both? What does that mean?” Tasha wondered from the other side of Bruce's bed. She stood nearby, but not close enough should he decide to reach out and grab her. She was wary of his disorientation.  
“Good question,” Tony admitted. He was curious about this answer. Bruce growled at them, his body tensing, muscles rippling across his chest, his hands flexing. Tony flinched a little at the increased pressure to his hand, but didn't try pulling away. He hadn't realized Bruce was so strong.  
“Sorry. We're sorry. No hurt,” Bruce's voice was a low growl, reminiscent of the Hulk's deep bass. Tasha quirked a look at Tony briefly at the plural 'we' in Bruce's statement, but said nothing, just cataloging everything.  
“No Bruce, no. It's okay. I'm fine,” Tony hastened to reassure the man, some ideas now percolating in his head. He patted the hand grasping his left, and turned to look at Tasha.  
“I'll stay, if you want to go tell Steve and Clint the good news. But I think we should wait a bit before they come check on us, don't you?” he told her. He was bidding for some private time with Bruce, but wasn't sure he'd get it. He also wasn't sure what he'd do with it, if Bruce wasn't all together with them yet.

Tasha looked carefully at the genius engineer and then at Bruce. “We'll visit singly, after a few hours, okay Bruce?” she offered to the physicist. Bruce gave his assent, letting her leave the pair alone. “I'll bring dinner back when I return, Stark,” she promised, not just that he'd have a meal, but that he'd eat it as well. Tony nodded, not letting go of Bruce's hand.  
After the Russian agent had left them alone, “Don't hover Tin Man,” Bruce growled out.  
“Banner, if you think this is hovering, it's a good thing Pepper's not here,” Tony quipped, letting go of Bruce's hand to get the chair he'd previously occupied. He shifted it further up the side of the bed and then sprawled.  
“No, not Red Flower,” Bruce jerked back in the bed, making the whole thing creak. They didn't want that precious being here, seeing them like this. No, couldn't happen.  
“Red Flower? Interesting nickname, Bruce. You thinking of moving in on my girl?” he teased, half a smirk curling his lip, though his face remained serious. 'When I think I want you for myself?' he thought to himself.  
“Hulk name for your girl, Tin Man. He likes descriptives,” Bruce replied, sounding a bit more like himself, but still, slightly off. Banner worried about giving too much away, but he trusted Tony, didn't he?

Tony nodded, settling in the chair. “Do you need anything? More water?” he asked.  
Bruce carefully shook his head once. “Just sleep,” he replied, yawning. He really needed to talk to the Hulk within the mindscape, but meditating was out of the question with anyone present, as well as unknown interruptions from the medical staff. Sleep was the best second option for access.  
“Okay, Big Guy. Either I'll be here, or someone from the team will,” Tony informed his friend that he'd not be alone. Bruce nodded, shifted around a little and closed his eyes. Tony watched his breathing slow into sleep and pulled out his phone again.

_J-man, ask Happy to bring a pair of tablets along with that ditty bag. Then load one with whatever Bruce's been reading, and the other with everything you can find on multiple personalities_ – Tony quickly tapped out the request.

_Of course sir. May I assume that Dr. Banner is back with us then?_ \- JARVIS

_Yeah. Tell Pepper that much. When I get relieved, I'll call her. He's sleeping so don't want to disturb him._ \- Tony

_Yes sir. Mr. Hogan will be there withing the hour._ \- JARVIS

_Good man, J._ \- Tony

 

Bruce got his breathing under control, quickly falling sleep, and dropped his consciousness into the mindscape. It felt tighter, smaller, and darker than it had the last time he'd been there. Before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Announcement time! First, I'm sorry this is late. I know it's only Monday, and I'm not that late. However, I have preferred to get my stories out every weekend. That didn't happen this time. I have caught whatever ick is crawling around, thanks to my devoted husband *glares in his general direction*. That slowed me down considerably, for all that I'm medicated, and am still plugging away. I also got an editing request and that also made editing my work that much more thorough. And I'm running 3 stories at once, so everything got slow. No real excuse except being sick, and taking on a bit more work than I'm used to. 
> 
> Also, I've put up notes in my profiles (on FFN and AO3) where you can find me elsewhere if you want to get story background, or just come harass me. I write posts under filter, on Dreamwidth and Livejournal, so you won't be getting crap you don't want to see. Each journal has a 'sticky' that lists those filters, with the comments screened. You just have to leave me a comment saying “I'm from 'whatever fiction site', and I want to be on your fanfic filter!” and I'll let you in. You'll get to see where I ramble about my storylines, whine about the characters, and mumble about new stories. I also have a Facebook, under this handle (only thing that stayed the same, as the journals are older).
> 
> I might be going to an every other week posting schedule. A couple of new stories are trying to crowd their way out of my gray matter, and well, I need some time to write them, and keep up with the others. I don't want to release more, but I also feel like one or more of the 3 I've got going on are winding down. I would also like a couple weeks RIGHT NOW to get ahead of myself a bit more. So bear with me. I know where my stories are going, and the well is not drying up on any of them. I refuse to let a story just die and not get finished. (I also don't like those 'chapters' that aren't anything other than an author's note, which this is quickly becoming, lol!) So if I don't post for a couple weeks, please don't freak out, just, PM me or something – I have some health issues I have to wrangle (aside from this cold), and some other real life stuff I want to mess with. Cripes this is a long author's note. But I think that's everything. See you when I see you!


	19. chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We're still in the same place gang, and this one starts out as a belly-button episode, ie the mindscape. Introspective stuff. I'm also making up a lot of stuff, so bear that in mind. No trauma warnings. Warnings for cursing though.
> 
> In other news - wow, nearly a month! Been awhile. Thanks for sticking with me, and not sending out hordes with torches and pitchforks.

Bruce cleaned up the fire pit, and prepared a fresh fire, the supplies necessary just materializing within easy reach beside him. When he finished, he stood and went to the house. It was in sad shape, shingles on the ground, the shuttered window broken. Even the large barn door was battered and cracked. He touched the squat little building, sighing.  
“Things are so different now, aren't they?”, he said, knowing the Hulk would hear him.  
“Banner? Scared,” Hulk said softly, which, for the mindscape, was pretty quiet. He peered through the window at Bruce, eyes clearly showing the emotion. The image Bruce had was of a much reduced Hulk. Quite literally, shrunken in on himself, but with the softened features of a pre-teen. Hulk's shoulders were rounded, as if he was afraid to draw attention to himself, afraid to know if someone was about to strike.  
“I know. I can't even promise we'll be all right. Betty,” his heart ached just to think about her, “She hurt us, more than physically.”  
Hulk opened the door to his house. “How fix?”, he wanted to know, as he stood in the doorway.  
“Can you come out to the fire pit? We can sit, have s'mores?” Bruce cajoled. S'mores were a favorite treat that they sorely missed while traveling the world. In moments of peace, they spent Bruce's meditations making the sticky, chocolatey treat. Bruce moved over to the pit, lighting the prepared fire. Hulk came out of the house, small and afraid. He shuffled uneasily to his stump and looked at it.  
“It's okay Hulk, we can just sit on the ground. Easier to make the s'mores,” Bruce said, indicating the ground next to him. He had a pair of sticks piercing 4 marshmallows held over the fire, roasting. He handed one of the sticks to Hulk, who carefully grasped the slim piece of oak.  
“What do now?”, Hulk wanted to know, as he pulled the toasted mallows off and stuck them between halves of a chocolate bar. Hulk ignored the graham crackers. Bruce had no immediate answer as he thought about the problem.

They made and enjoyed a few treats before Bruce found what he wanted to say.  
“Trust,” he started to say.  
“Tin Man?” Hulk wondered, around a mouthful of toasted marshmallow.  
“If you think so. I have no problem with it,” Bruce hedged. He knew he felt something more for Tony, but felt it would remain unrequited. Tony had Pepper, and to the best of Bruce's knowledge, hadn't been acting like a wild party animal since the invasion. Which told Bruce Tony was attempting monogamy. Not that he didn't know whether they'd welcome an open relationship to include him, or that he'd poach from Pepper. Bruce couldn't even tell what his feelings truly were, beyond a deep gratitude for trusting and believing in him, when no one else had.  
“Don't want to run,” Hulk said, matter-of-factly, making another s'more.  
“I'm tired of that too, Hulk. But things are different now. Betty hurt us, not just physically.”  
“Heart hurts.”  
“Exactly,” Bruce sighed, stretching before the metaphorical fire. He wasn't sure how they'd trust anyone now.  
“Sleep now,” Hulk said, yawning mightily. Bruce laughed, a soft, contented sound, and banked the fire. The pair of them curled up next to each other, like siblings, or near enough, and faded into the deeper reached of the unconscious for true rest.

 

When next they woke up, a swift inhalation told them that Tony wasn't present, but that Hawkeye was. They'd fought together during the invasion, but otherwise didn't know each other. Barton spoke, “I know you're awake, Doctor. Stark will be back in a few moments. His driver showed up with some of his stuff. Then he needed to eat something or Nat was going to have words with him.”  
Bruce shifted uneasily in his bed, his odd colored eyes blearily checking out the room.  
“Just as an FYI, Ashwhite has you on a pain killer. So if you are having trouble focusing, that's why. Personally, hate the way they make me feel, but they're necessary sometimes,” Barton continued. Bruce grunted. The information on their own condition was welcome, but the personal info just confused them. Barton lapsed into silence, eyes on his hands resting tensely in his lap.

The last time Clint had had to deal with something like this, he'd had Coulson to lean on. And his experience had come at the hands of someone who had wanted him dead, not a purported loved one having a mental breakdown. Though, he sighed mentally, dragged back into his distant past. Trickshot, his brother, being left for dead. Maybe? He lifted his head, gaze settling on the injured man before him.  
“Doctor Banner, we've not really been introduced. I'm Clint Barton, and I am also a victim of torture,” inwardly Clint cringed. He sounded like an AA member. Bruce turned those odd eyes on him, pinning him with a steely gaze.  
“Birdman hurt?”, he said, that deep, gravelly voice reminding Clint of the Hulk, if that creature could whisper, anyway.  
“I have been. My brother, people I trusted. And in the course of the job. I've been fucked up a long time because of it. But,” Clint takes a moment, runs a hand through his lengthening blond hair, “I have Nat now. Had another person, but he's gone now,” his facial features tighten. Bruce can tell he's sad. “Without their help, I wouldn't be here. Without their love, well, you know, I'm sure.” Bruce nods, they do know.  
The door to the room opens then, allowing Tony to shuffle in, subdued.  
“Stark, you look like shit. What happened?”, Clint was surprised. He'd thought Tony would end up crashing, either by choice, or by force of Natasha. Bruce growled at Clint's tone, on the defensive for Tony.  
“Just tired, Legolas.” Tony was hiding something, Clint figured, but knew the engineer wouldn't discuss right there.  
Bruce looked at Tony, questioning his appearance. “Tin Man need sleep. Birdman make Tin Man sleep,” he ordered.  
Clint laughed, “Good idea, but he refuses to leave you alone, Doc. Nat's helping Sitwell, Rogers is with Fury, so it's just us.”  
Tony frowned, he didn't want to be manipulated away from Bruce. “I can manage, I don't need sleep.” Both of the others snorted in disbelief.  
“Tell you what? I'll get a cot in here for Stark, since he's so damned determined to remained attached,” Clint offered.  
Bruce became alarmed, “NO! Blood danger if Tin Man stays!” He ineffectually thrashed in the bed, as though attempting to withdraw from any hint of casual touch. They couldn't remember the safety regulations. They needed to.  
“Bruce! Stop!”, Tony called, trying to calm him down. He moved to the bed and grabbed at one flailing hand, “Quit it! You'll hurt yourself worse.” Bruce focused on Tony's face, finding peace in the warm, chocolate gaze. “The Geiger was put in place to keep a check on the background radiation. Yes, you have open wounds, but the bleeding has stopped. I think Ashwhite has claimed the danger to be minimal, or we'd all be in bunny suits,” Tony explained, waving away Bruce's concerns.  
“No stay. Too much danger,” they tried again. Why wouldn't Tin Man LISTEN?  
Clint went to find Ashwhite, and get the final word, realizing that might be the only way to calm Bruce down. Tony looked down at Bruce and simply said, “Fix it. Transform so you heal, and we can all go home.” Bruce flinched, it wasn't that easy.  
Ashwhite made his appearance, Clint behind him with a collapsible camp cot, small pillow and a blanket.  
“I understand there's an issue over having one of your teammates stay?” the medic directs at Bruce, who nods, staring at the PA. Ashwhite solves the issue by going to the melamine counter and turning off the Geiger counter.  
“The levels have never gone above background since we got the bleeding stopped. If someone handled your blood, had their own open wounds, or somehow inhales or ingests it, THEN it's a problem. Just being here, with open, non-bleeding wounds? They are fine. Mr. Stark is right though. A transformation would heal all of this,” the tall man goes on to say. Bruce grumbles, but can't otherwise refute the man at that point. Tony grins triumphantly and takes the cot and blanket from Clint to set up behind Bruce's bed.

Ashwhite looks over Bruce before he leaves. “If you wondered, no one here wants to lock you up. The Avengers won't allow it, for one. And neither will I. Also, we're not doing anything with any bodily fluids or the medical waste aside from proper disposal. You are as safe as I can make you,” he promises the physicist.  
“Good to know,” Bruce growls, shifting uneasily. Tony comes back from setting up the cot.  
“So, sleep over at SHIELD. Who'da thunk?” his voice is tired, but he's trying for levity. Bruce's eyes crinkle in the corners in appreciation.  
“Go to sleep, Tin Man. Still here, always here,” Bruce told him. Tony grunted, but obeyed. Clint watched the genius engineer get settled, and leaves with Ashwhite. He's got the others to update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious AN for a moment – yeah the radiation thing? False. I modified it for this story, because well, then I'd have to go back and fix the fuck-ups in the previous chapters. I remember one fic where Bruce's wounds were covered in lead aprons. Uncomfortable, if you ask me (I hate wearing them just for an x-ray). I believe, that if there was a TRUE hazard, Bruce would have been in a biological lockdown, and the team and docs would be wearing bio-suits (bunny suits) just to get into the room with him. So that part is most definitely made up.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This one is potentially triggery. Fury is definitely an asshole in this, and well, there's also a solid warning for cursing.
> 
> Holy smokes, 20 chapters! Where does the time go? Thanks for being with me on this roller coaster ride. I know, that sounds like this is the end, but I PROMISE, this is NOT THE END. We have a long, long way to go yet. I just thought it was a neat milestone to point out.

Fury finally found a moment to pay the Avengers a visit, well after Sitwell was done interrogating the lab geek the team had picked up. He found Steve in the gym, working off the last of his adrenaline, and quite a bit of worry.  
“Captain Rogers,” his bass voice echoed in the nearly empty space, catching the other man mid swing on the heavy bag. Steve completed the swing, which turned into the killing blow for the bag, ripping the poly-leather material and dumping sand all over the floor. Steve straightened and turned away from the deflated bag, focusing his attention on taped hands as he walked towards Fury.  
“What can I do for you, Director?”, the captain's voice lacked inflection and warmth. Nick wanted to sigh. The team still hadn't forgiven him for the callous treatment of the memory of Agent Coulson. No funeral, no wake, or memorial service of any kind. Maria Hill had tried to explain that it was a SHIELD directive, but Agents Barton and Romanov put paid to that idea. Rogers had less cause to trust, with the double debacles of his awakening and the Phase 2 weapons.  
“Came to get an update on you and the rest of your team, Captain,” Fury stated, trying to tone down the command portion of himself. He failed, when Rogers tilted his head to one side, considering if he'd been issued an order.  
“Stark is with Banner, sleeping, according to the last report. Your medical team at least looks in on them, but nothing else,” Steve's opinion of this lack of care spoke volumes. While the Hulk was no one's favorite, Bruce should be comfortable and well taken care of. If SHIELD couldn't provide that, well, it was a good idea that Stark was going to outfit the Tower with its own medical wing.  
“I'll have a word,” Fury began.  
“Pardon me sir, I doubt that'll change things. Banner is a respected scientist, or should be. Without him, we would never have found the Tesseract. He's treated like a pariah at best, a carrier of the plague at worst,” Steve interrupted. Fury glared balefully at the super soldier, who simply began peeling the tape off his knuckles, appearing disinterested in the whole meeting.  
“Clint and Natasha should also be sleeping, or otherwise occupying themselves,” Steve went on, moving from his left hand to his right. The tape found its way to the nearest trash bin, and Rogers grabbed his bottle of water to drink from, while Fury judged his next move.  
“All right Captain, I won't keep you,” Fury elected to retreat. He was rethinking several plans already in motion on this team, but was sure it would cause more trouble than if they went forward. He spun on his booted heel and stalked from the room to find his wayward agents. He held no illusions that this next meeting would go any smoother.

 

He found them in the cafeteria, deciding on what food to take Stark in a few hours.  
“I think we need to go get something off base, Nat,” Clint was saying to his partner as Fury swept up on them, duster flapping around him. She shrugged, putting back a bowl of chili in distaste.  
“Agents,” he growled. They barely reacted. He snorted in amusement. These two never did, even from their early days in the agency.  
“Director,” Romanov was polite, if frosty. Barton ignored him, and yet acknowledged his presence by shifting slightly closer to Romanov. Fury wasn't sure if it was protection, or solidarity.  
“How are you?”, Fury asked. It was less a request for boring small talk than a demand for a sitrep. They'd been on an unapproved mission, and Fury hated that. Their missions should only be approved by SHIELD, even Avengers ones.  
“Uninjured, sir. Fight was unequal,” Barton grinned, jaw tight. It reminded Fury of a hyena. Barton hated Fury, or SHIELD, he was never 100% sure on that score. Perhaps both, equally.  
“Same,” Romanov said, her voice a cold slide of ice against his exposed skin. She was normal then, wholly indifferent to most of the world around her. Or so Fury believed. No one had cracked her outer shell, according to the rumor mill. The pair had managed to keep their affairs quite separated from SHIELD's influence over the years.

“And this situation?” Fury wanted to know. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth. Banner, or more precisely, the Hulk, had more use to him, to SHIELD, than the geeky, quiet, scientist that housed the beast.

This was honestly the darkest test to date for the Avengers. His agents were reasonably prepared for these types of situations, for torture, having some level of training. But civilians like Stark and Banner? He could only hope Banner came out of this as strong as Stark always appeared to be.  
“Working through it, Director. As a _team_ ,” Barton growled, a deeper tone to the word 'team', than the rest of his statement. It told Fury that he was treading on thin ice. It was a wonder Barton was still in the same room with the other man, as angry as he seemed to be. It wasn't quite his default emotional state, but it had been, lately.  
“Good. Keep doing that.” And Nick Fury left his two best assets behind, again. He needed to discuss replacements with Hill, and soon. They were getting too tied up in this hero nonsense, and he really needed to either bring them back into the fold of SHIELD, or cut them loose.

 

He went down to the pseudo-medical room they were housing Banner in, stuck his head in and found Banner awake, staring at the ceiling.  
“Dr. Banner,” Fury said, by way of announcing himself before he walked into the room. He then closed the door behind him. He didn't need any interruptions.  
Bruce's eyes, bizarrely double colored as they were, moved and refocused on the bulk of Nick Fury as he approached the bed. Wearing his usual unrelenting, head to toe black, Fury was attempting to maintain his usual intimidation. What he didn't realize, and could not realize, that Bruce wasn't fully himself. And Bruce was having none of it that day. Neither he, nor the Hulk, trusted the Director of SHIELD, or for that matter, much of the organization as a whole.  
“Fury leave,” he growled out, surprising the head of SHIELD with the depth of anger in those two words.  
“I need to debrief you, Doctor. Get the complete picture,” Fury said, coming to a stop beside the bed. He hadn't yet noticed Tony sleeping not 2 feet away.  
“Nothing to say,” Bruce growled, shifting uneasily in his bed, the metal frame ominously creaking. The heart monitor he still wore registered a spike in beats, but Fury couldn't tell if the scientist was anxious, or just angry. His skin tone remained the usual flesh color of Banner, no green in sight.  
“We have Dr. Ross in custody, Dr. Banner. Without a statement from you,” Fury pushed. He really needed to convince the man that they'd cut Ross loose if he didn't report on the incident in the warehouse. Banner actually growled, an animalistic noise, something close to that of a tiger. His hands fisted, and came up defensively. The heart monitor jack rabbited beside Fury, practically screaming from the incredible jump in Banner's anger. Still, he remained pasty white.

Both sounds were enough to drag Stark back to consciousness, however reluctantly. Groggy, he sat up. “What the ever loving fuck?”  
“Stay out of it, for once Stark,” Fury snapped, not even glancing in his direction. His tone further upset Banner.  
“Leave him alone, One Eye,” Bruce grunted, lurching forward on the bed, one hand swiping the oxygen tubes off his face. Fury didn't move in the face of what Tony registered as increased danger.  
“Fury, what the hell? Get out of here!”, Tony demanded, standing from the camp cot, blanket sliding to the floor. Fury chanced to flick his single eyed gaze at Tony and dismissed him, irrelevant, focusing back on Banner in a single blink. The doctor was hunched forward, upper body tight and bent in, focused like a gorilla ready to attack.  
He tried again to poke the bear, “We can't hold her on anything but kidnapping. And the drugs in your bloodstream? Well, there might be an incident.”  
“Now wait just a God damn minute Fury!” Tony snarled, tripping over the blanket tangled around his feet in his haste to reach Bruce's side. Bruce was growling, skin taking on a subtle lime color as the Hulk made his first bid for freedom. Someone had to protect Banner and Tin Man.  
“LEAVE ONE-EYE!” he snarled, volume battering their collective eardrums. He came off the bed, only to hit the floor on his bandaged knees. Tony winced in sympathy at the loud impact thuds. Bruce surged to his feet, body caught in the change to the Hulk. Bandages became strained, before breaking against his upper arms and around his chest as he trebled in size, skin tone shading from that limey beige through to forest green.  
Immediately the room became cramped with the Hulk's mass. The bed got shoved back to the counter, the heart monitor was tipped over, leads trailing. The oxygen tank rolled off to the opposite side of Tony, who took another step forward, comically shaking free of the blanket, trying to reach the Hulk's side. Fury craned his head up, trying to keep the eyes of the behemoth before him. He refused to give ground, or show fear. He certainly felt it though, adrenaline spiking hot and fierce in his system. Hulk roared his displeasure, moving a menacing half step forward. Something twinged in his chest, making him swipe at it with one huge hand. The action disconnected the PICC line, and threw the IV pole to the ground, bursting the bag of fluids. Liquid rushed and puddled around their feet, ignored.  
“One Eye stop pushing Banner,” Hulk growled, protectively. He was breathing hard, trying to control his visceral reaction. He knew that now was not the time to go on a rampage. Bruce, in the mindscape was attempting to remind him of that.  
“No,” Fury shot back, pushing his fast disappearing luck.  
Tony quickly darted around to stand between them, “Are you out of your Goddamn mind, Fury? Get the hell out of here!” He faced the Director, putting his back trustingly to the Hulk, as if he alone could protect the green giant. Fury looked at Stark, then at the menacing green behemoth, and considered his options. Stark rattled on, “You won't get shit from Bruce now, asshole. Disappear, before he turns you into a smear against the damn wall!”  
“This is not over, Stark. We need his damn statement to hold these three!” Fury threatened hollowly, whirling on a boot heel and striding out of the room in a flare of black leather. He slammed open the door, passing Ashwhite in the hall, who had responded to the heart monitor's alarm. He stood in the doorway, and watched Tony try and calm Hulk back to the physicist.

“All right Big Guy, we ran him off. Do you want to smash? Or let Bruce back out?” Tony had turned to look up at the Hulk, concern etched over his features. Hulk shifted in place, clearly thinking. Ashwhite could see the heterochromia had carried over, and really wondered what that meant.  
“Medic, Tin Man,” Hulk finally said, gaze shifting to pin Ashwhite in place. The anger was draining out of him, but he held his form, unsure of the physician's assistant that hovered in the doorway. At least he didn't stink of fear, like Fury had. He hated that smell, and was so glad it was never present on Tony.  
“So he is. Ashwhite,” Tony turned his head to see the medic. His tone was cool, collected, where just a moment ago, he was attempting to wage a minor war for his friend.  
“Mr. Stark, Hulk,” Ashwhite said, keeping his voice level, his words calm. “You need to know, whatever Fury has planned, I won't support. He's got more than enough to hold Dr. Ross and her associates on the drug charges alone,” he explained, knowing he was likely ruining his career with SHIELD. He didn't care, he held his vows as a doctor to a higher standard than his vows to SHIELD.  
“Prepared for that?” Tony wanted to know. Wanted to know if this man was trustworthy. So far, the only person still with SHIELD to really appear to be on their side.  
“How far?” Ashwhite queried back. Tony waved him into the room. Ashwhite didn't hesitate, pulling the door closed once more.  
“Hulk, I'm calling the rest of the team, okay?” Tony advised his big, green friend, going to the cot to fish his phone out from under the pillow. He'd stuffed it there in case it vibrated.  
“Good,” Hulk grunted, settling back on his haunches and closing his eyes. He was tired, they both were, but he didn't want to give up control just yet. In case Fury returned.  
“Hulk? May I give you a once over? Make sure all the wounds are gone?” Ashwhite asked. Hulk grunted but otherwise didn't move. Ashwhite was easily able to visually inspect the giant man, noting that each stripe of peeled skin had sealed up and was now barely a memory on his tough, leathery hide. He had to deal with the remainder of the PICC line, but would require Tony's help for that, unsure how Hulk would take to such proximity, much less touching by the veritable stranger. Tony was on the phone to Natasha, telling her to bring the rest of the team up to Bruce's room.  
“Mr. Stark? If you could, give me a hand with this last bit of catheter and I'm sure Hulk will be much more comfortable,” Ashwhite spoke, looking directly at the Hulk in front of him. Hulk didn't twitch at his words, assuming he understood them. Tony moved to stand beside him, and reached out to touch the Hulk on the shoulder closest to him. It was also the side where the PICC line was located.  
“Doc needs to pull this bit out of you, okay Big Guy? Hold still for us,” Tony murmurs. He motioned Ashwhite to go ahead. The medic quickly and gently pulled the line, swabbing the tiny hole left behind with a cotton ball extracted from his pocket. He grimaced over the lack of sanitation, but chose not to make the giant wait while he fumbled for alcohol.

Soon the others joined them, expressing happiness on the Hulk's appearance. Hulk was reassured by their appearance in return, and was sufficiently calmed to let Bruce take back control. Everyone watched the deflation with unconcealed interest, seeing the mighty bulk displace itself back to the no less mighty, small scientist. Tony reached out again, and touched him gently on both shoulders, grounding him. Bruce flinched a bit, before he opened his eyes.  
“Can we go home?” he asked, plaintive and quiet.  
“Yeah Bruce, we can do that,” Tony answered, wrapping the other man in a gentle, firm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'm not sure I'm happy with Fury's voice here. But ah well. I won't be using him much, methinks.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We're able to take a break now, as I pull away from the main focus to deal with some subplots.

The team got Bruce back to the Tower with minimal fuss after the encounter with Fury. He retired to his room for privacy and some undisturbed rest, leaving the others to discuss their next move. JARVIS promised to monitor him.

“So the plan remains the same?” Clint wondered aloud, flopping on the plush, beige couch in the living room. Natasha curled up neatly next to him, feet tucked under a nearby throw.  
“No reason to change anything,” she said in response, leaning into his side. He curled one arm around her torso, hugging her, shielding her. This whole mess had troubled the pair of them. They still felt adrift with the loss of their lover.  
“No, the mission to DC is still good. We put everything back to normal for him, unless he wants the change,” Tony said, standing by the bank of floor to ceiling windows. He stared down into the bowels of Manhattan, as if it would give him the answers he sought.

The group sat or stood in silence, Steve having found a seat in one of the bracketing arm chairs, each alone with their thoughts. Pepper found them an hour later.  
“You're back!” she exclaimed, caught by surprise at the sight of the four solemn heroes in the main living room. “Bruce?” she asked of no one in particular. Tony turned to look at her, and she nearly flinched at the distant look in his eyes. “What happened?” her voice now turned demanding as she fell back into her armor as CEO.  
“He's fine. Currently in his room, sleeping, I hope,” Tasha said from her spot beside Clint. Her face was turned into his chest. They appeared nearly asleep.  
“We may have an issue with SHIELD though. Might need to hire ourselves a doctor sooner than I'd planned,” Tony said, slowing coming back to himself, “But in the mean time, Pep, let's go talk.” He moved forward, approaching her with slow, deliberate strides as though she'd flee if he startled her.  
“O, okay Tony. If you think we need to?” she was confused by his actions rather than his words.  
“You three will be heading out when?” Tony asked the others as he crossed the room.  
Steve looked at the two agents, who had a brief, silent conference then Clint answered, “In two days.” Tony nodded and took Pepper by the arm to guide her back out to the elevator and up to their penthouse.

 

“Tony? What's wrong? You're scaring me,” Pepper quietly asked once the doors to the elevator had closed behind them. He'd let her go once inside the car, moving to put the distance of the small space between them. His arms wrapped around his chest, almost a hug, or providing protection for his heart.  
“Not here Pepper. Let's wait til we're upstairs, okay?” he whispered, clearly uncomfortable now. She nodded jerkily and subsided into her own uncomfortable silence for the rest of the ride. This whole thing reminded her of the palladium days, Tony throwing himself into whatever adrenaline fueled thing he could attempt, just to feel alive, and she not knowing what to make of anything he did.

They arrived at the penthouse, and Tony came close to her again to escort her into the main room. He got her comfortable in the overstuffed, black leather couch, and went to the bar.  
“Drink?”, he asked, retreating into the familiar, reaching for a truly dusty bottle of whiskey from a dark corner of the bar.  
“Um, sure. Whiskey sour?” Pepper requested, trying to find a bit of equilibrium. He smiled and made her drink, and poured himself a decent tumbler's worth of the whiskey, neat*. Tony brought the drinks back to the couch and offered Pepper hers. She accepted it, trying to hide the shaking in her hand. He walked away from the couch, desperately needing the distance as he prepared for the coming storm.  
“Tony?”, Pepper whispered, after a single gulp of the drink she'd been given. It didn't give her courage, or settle her nerves.  
“This whiskey was one of my dad's. Kept a supply to toast 'great successes' according to Obie. And drowned a few sorrows as well, from the letters of my mother,” he intoned, staring deep into his glass, as though the amber liquid held the secrets of the universe.  
“Pepper,” he sighed, “you mean the world to me.”  
“We need to break up, don't we?”, she caught on quick, did Ms Virginia Potts. That's what he loved about her, among other reasons.  
“I can't say it's for the best, because it's not. But I think, no,” here he turned to look at her, expression hard in its earnestness, “I know, there's feelings for Bruce,” he placed his empty hand over his heart, “And it's so very not fair to any of us if I keep you beside me in that confusion.” He hated himself right then. Wanted nothing more than to have the ground open up and swallow him than cause Pepper pain.  
“Tony,” Pepper began, leaning forward to put her drink on the nearby glass topped coffee table before standing, “I had a feeling this was coming.” Tony visibly flinched, hard enough that he had to take a half step back. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but a raised hand from her forestalled the verbal attack.  
“Listen to me, please?”, she asked, moving towards him, and coincidentally backing him up against the windows. The expression on her face was soft, caring. She wasn't completely heartbroken, but Tony just thought she was 'being brave' while he killed her heart. She took his hand in hers, grasping it gently.  
“You've gotten closer to Bruce in less time than I've seen you create new technology,” she began, “I felt you slipping away while we were on that press junket. Even before, really. Only the suit, or one of the robots gets so much more of your attention, and I think even they could end up in second place.” Her free hand came up to caress his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch, tears he'd been trying to hold back, slipping free. The clear saline dropping unnoticed down his cheeks, unheeded into his goatee.  
“I never wanted to hurt you again, Pep,” he whispered, voice cracking as he fought to keep from a complete break down.  
“I won't be leaving you, Tony. Just, I won't be so close anymore,” she said, softly. He wrapped his arms around her, tightening into a strong hug. The tumbler of whiskey knocked against her elbow, droplets spilling onto her skirt, but she didn't care. She just leaned her head against his shoulder, and listened to the faint hum of the arc reactor and the strong beat of his heart.  
“He completes you like no one else I've seen, dear one,” she quietly says, voice only loud enough that he didn't have to strain to understand.  
“Please don't hate me, Pepper,” he cried.  
“Never.”

And the hug he initiated became hers as he finally let go, and grieved for himself, her and for Bruce. Probably for him, most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - A “neat” whiskey is straight up, no ice, or other garnish. Older style of ordering this type of alcohol. What can I say, both Tony and I are old-fashioned (and just plain old).
> 
> Also, I hope I did justice to their breakup. *Hands out tissues to whomever wants them*


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: WARNING!!! Triggers abound in here. This chapter very specifically deals with how Bruce can be triggered into PTSD episodes – fear, lashing out, harming himself, etc. If you cannot deal, PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER. I cannot make that decision for you, only you can. I value my readers' health more than I value reviews and kudos. Please, don't read this if you are in a delicate place. You won't miss much by skipping the chapter, I promise. If you like, PM me, and I'll let you know about the parts that didn't involve Bruce at all.  
> Again, this whole chapter is under my usual trigger warnings. You know by now that my descriptions are intense. Please proceed with utmost caution.

Bruce rejoined the others the next morning at breakfast. He sat quietly, letting the sounds of the team filter and wash over him, reassure him that all was right with his world again. Except it wasn't, and he knew that. He just wondered where the line was, and when his teammates would abandon him as the broken liability he had become.

Natasha made him tea as soon as he appeared, earning her a small smile as he accepted the cup, careful not to touch, lest something rub off. He had claimed a seat in the kitchen, along the bar, but with his back tucked to the wall to watch the others bustle about the room. They cheerfully, and not so cheerfully, got in each others' way making coffee, cooking food, and standing in front of the fridge and stove.

“So, a lunch meeting to finalize the DC trip?”, Steve asked Natasha and Clint over orange juice and eggs, confirming yesterday's plan.

“Yeah, sounds like an idea. We have a gym session this morning,” Clint agreed for both of them, forking up scrambled and a bit of home fries. Natasha simply smiled her acceptance as she nibbled on buttered toast.

“You'll be taking a Stark jet, right?” Tony offered from his spot by the coffee maker, waiting impatiently for the newest pot to finish brewing. He looked like he'd been up all night, yet oddly well rested. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but to Bruce's eye, he appeared freer somehow, lighter.

“Be easier, I think. Can't use SHIELD resources at this point,” Clint responded, making a pointed gesture with his fork. No one sees Bruce flinch at the mention of spy agency, well, no one but everyone does.

“Good. I'll call the airport and make sure one's fueled and ready to go,” Pepper contributed, finishing her fruit laden yogurt and binning the container. She put the spoon in the sink and nudged Tony away from the coffee long enough to fill a travel mug, and caress his cheek in fond farewell. “I'm off to Malibu tonight as well. My assistants will send someone up to pack my things in the next few days, so don't freak out, all right?” she told him, reassuring him gently.

“No rush, even with strangers all over the penthouse,” he murmured, leaning into her touch and letting his eyes slide closed. It kept the pain he knew was there from being broadcast to the rest of the team.

“Even so, a clean break,” Pepper confirmed, thumb idly moving over his cheek bone. The others politely ignore their exchange. Bruce idly wondered at the scene, but eventually slipped back into ennui.

“Don't like it,” Tony pouted. She smiled, fitting the lid onto her mug.

“I know. But the faster it is done, the easier it will be for you to focus where you'll be needed most.” Their joint gazes strayed to Bruce, sitting listlessly in his corner, ignoring his rapidly cooling tea.

“Yeah, you're right,” he sighed. No one knew how Bruce was ultimately going to react to his ordeal.

Eventually Bruce wandered back to own room, pleading a desire to rest and be left alone.

 

Days passed and Bruce drifted through several of them, doing nothing aside from existing. He finally seemed to snap out of his fugue and wanted to dive into a biochem project. The team is scattered. Natasha, Clint, and Steve are still in DC. Pepper is in Malibu or jetting around the world on SI business. Thor is on another world entirely, no one is sure it's Asgard. And Tony? Tony is currently in a board room, convincing a group of his engineers and managers to move forward on his arc reactor energy conversion project.

Bruce is on Level 6, one of the R&D departments, absently moving through one of the labs, too focused on his project. He claimed an open desk and settled in to work for a few hours. This particular project was an exploration of cybernetic connections in prosthetics. Bruce needed access to earlier Stark Tech work in nanotechnology. While there, he didn't notice his coworkers arriving to pick up their day after lunch. All the technicians were surprised to find him there.

The lab supervisor approached him, to check if he had everything he needed. “Dr. Banner?”, she called, heels clicking across the linoleum. 

He started, surprised out of his concentration. “What? Yes?”, he stuttered, spinning in place on the lab stool.

He looked up at the lab supervisor, a young woman of average height, brown hair pulled neatly back into an updo wrap, brown eyes soft, yet intense behind the required safety glasses. The lab coat covered a bright blue top, and black pencil skirt. Her ID badge hung off the coat pocket, proclaiming her name as Barbara Reynolds. He froze, face taking on the classic 'deer in the headlights' look. The new woman had a clipboard grasped in one hand, a gentle smile on her face. Her free hand was held out before her, in a bid for a proper introduction.

Bruce sat frozen, heart hammering in his chest, breath stuttering in his lungs. Betty got free? Came back to finish him off?

No!

Not possible!

Hulk stirred in the back of his mind, reacting to the flood of adrenaline crashing through his host body. Bruce's eyes swirled green as they both made an attempt to process all the stressful input.

“No,” he whispered, fearful. He shrank away from the woman, falling off the stool. He hits the floor, briefly stunned before he can scramble away, crab walking before he can right himself. Continuously moving away from the source of danger.

Meanwhile, up 10 floors in a boardroom where Tony listens to a project manager drone on useless about the reactor's projected cost overages before it begins to save money. JARVIS breaks through the meeting, making most of those present jump in shock. No regular employee knew about JARVIS, much less that he now had full access and control of the Tower.

“Sir, you are needed immediately on R&D Level 6. Code Jade,” the AI is implacable. The manager gapes like a landed fish when Tony practically teleports out of his chair and through the door. The chair is flung backwards so hard, it strikes the wall, and rebounds, rolling after Tony like a lost duckling.

“Carry on, or don't. This is way more important,” he hastily flings over his shoulder as he bolts for the elevator. “JARVIS, priority override, Stark, Alpha Niner 1 1 Zed,” he called out, passing startled interns that could only flatten themselves against the off white walls of the hall.

“At once sir,” the disembodied voice scared them even more. They weren't prepare for a Star Trekkian computer at work. Tony reached the open elevator, slid to a stop inside, palms touching the opposite wall as a brace, and stood impatiently for the transfer to the R&D floor. JARVIS had control again, as he had done for that earlier moment. Tony realized he needed to consider a rapid response elevator just for Bruce and the rest of the team. He'd have to look into it, when things were calmer. If he remembered.

The elevator door opened as soon as JARVIS pulled the elevator car to a halt, allowing Tony to rocket out of the box like a pinball shot at the start of a game. JARVIS had managed to clear the floor, something Tony was grateful for as he ran for the lab. But why on Earth had Bruce picked the far end that day?

Tony eventually found Bruce barricaded in a back office of the lab floor, the desk knocked over on its side, papers scattered everywhere like large snowflakes. Bruce was distinctly 'green around the gills' but hadn't completed the change. Tony tried to open the office door, but it wouldn't budge. The knob turned, but he couldn't force the door to move.

“JARVIS, override the lock on R&D Level 6, office belonging to...Mick Anderson,” Tony demanded, voice harsh with impatience, reading the name stenciled on the door. He heard the mag lock click, confirming that is was disengaged, and tried the door again. It still wouldn't budge. “Bruce?”, he called, trying to get the physicist's attention, “Bruce, it's Tony. You okay?”

“Go away” rumbled through the door. The voice was too deep to be just Bruce's. Tony swore he'd get to the bottom of that.

“Damn, need to get in there. JARVIS, access the security feeds and tell me what's blocking the door!”, Tony testily commanded his AI.

“Accessing,” the slightly accented voice replied, “It appears Dr. Banner has blocked the door with a chair under the knob, sir. You'll have to break the glass to force your way inside.” JARVIS had doubled the output on the broadcast, informing both his creator, and the doctor of what the next move would have to be.

“Okay, okay. Bruce? Just, sit tight, man. Let me find something to do this with,” Tony had placed a hand flat on the glass, leaned his forehead there for just a moment. His mind raced, trying to figure out how to help Bruce in the quickest, easiest way possible.

On the other side, tucked into the furthest corner he could shove his warped and changing body, Bruce ducked his head, shivered. He groaned, and thunked his head hard against the wall, nearly concussing himself, almost completely lost in a sensory flashback. He fought for control, tried regulating his breathing. He rode the edge. A sword's edge, an atom bomb's edge. 

Minutes drag like hours, like days, until...

 

**CRASH**

Bruce screamed, a throaty howl, as tempered glass shattered and rained down both sides of the door, like a hard, crystallized waterfall. He clawed the walls, on either side of his hiding spot, fingers easily digging through the drywall, but splitting the nails in the process.

“Bruce! It's okay. I'm right here, you're all right!”, Tony called, repeating himself over and over, as he reached his arm through the narrow opening, scraping up against the loose bits of glass. Using his toes, he levered against the floor and bottom of the door to push on the chair, freeing it from the doorknob, and shoving it as far away as he could.

“JARVIS, call Ashwhite. If he can, get him here, now. If not, get his advice on how to help,” Tony commanded, finally able to open the office door. He stepped inside, feet crunching across the glass on the floor. The Italian loafers he wore squeaked across the clear linoleum as Tony moved deeper into the spacious office. “Bruce? Hey, c'mon. It's all right. We need to get you out of here, Big Guy,” Tony's voice was soft, and gentle as he tried to coax Bruce out from hiding.

Bruce jerked his head away, slamming it against the wall one more time, clamping his eyes tightly closed as Tony found and approached him. His hands reached up to protect his face, cupping over his eyes, fingertips digging into his brow. The broken nails gouged marks above his eyebrows. Blood welled up, but didn't quite drip as the marks began to immediately heal.

“It's okay Bruce. No one's going to hurt you here, I promise. Come here, give me your hand. That's it. Hey, look at me, okay? Eyes here. C'mon. Let's get you out of here,” Tony rambled, hands grasping the physicist's own, gently tugging, grounding. Bruce clamped onto Tony's hands, tightly. Tony's eyes pinched at the pain, but he otherwise ignored it.

Bruce, with slightly green tinged skin, a little bulkier than normal muscles and body shape, and eyes a startling lime, followed Tony out of the corner. He let Tony encircle his body in a loose embrace, and they stood in the middle of the room for long minutes, just taking the time to return to normal.

Many long, drawn out minutes later, and Tony could tell Bruce's heart was slowing to normal. He rubbed slow circles on Bruce's right upper arm with his thumb, and murmured nonsense words. Bruce relaxed incrementally, but the green and size didn't fade.

“Do you need to Hulk out, Bruce?” Tony asked, voice barely audible. Bruce's head jerked violently side to side in denial. “Hey, there's space to do it safely. One of the garages in fact. Let's go down and you can have some fun,” Tony said, leaning away from Bruce to look at his face. The eyes of lime were darkening to something of a grass green, an effect that Tony decided he could watch forever.

“Don't want to hurt anyone, or break anything,” Bruce tried to explain, voice rough as though he'd been screaming for hours. It was the Hulk's bass rumble in Bruce's vocal cords. He'd have laryngitis before too long.

“Nope, you won't. It's just you and me on this floor, and JARVIS can make sure the elevator doesn't stop for anyone. As for the garage? Who cares about the cars? I can replace 'em! Hello, billionaire? C'mon, let's go pound some steel and fiberglass,” Tony cajoled gently, tugging on Bruce's arms, hoping to lead the other man out of R&D and down to the garage he had in mind.

“Okay, we can go smash,” Bruce stated simply. Hulk made the decision, tightening up the body's bulging muscles, straining the seams of his clothing even more. Tony was completely enthralled by the physiological changes that coursed through the scientist's body.

They slowly traversed the hallway, to the elevator held open by JARVIS. Tony kept up a steady stream of nonsense, just as he had when the team had rescued Bruce days ago. The ride to the basement garage was quick and quiet. And when they reach it, Bruce is gently nudged out of the elevator car with a quiet, “Go to it, Green Genes.”

He takes that permission and explodes into the depths of the cavern, the shift of the transformation overtaking his normal form in seconds. Miraculously avoiding load bearing columns, Hulk just pummels the variety of cars and vans, and tosses chunks of steel and plastic while roaring at the top of his impressive lungs. Dozens of cars get warped and shattered in the ensuing chaos, and Tony couldn't be happier. The IROCS, and S series, are stripped to their component parts. The Boxsters make excellent projectiles aimed at the Mercedes 190Es. Tony leaned on the wall of the elevator car and laughed in manic delight at the chaos and destruction. JARVIS cataloged the whole thing, because Tony wanted to be able to watch it over and over again. He's glad he's had to upgrade the security features of the Tower, so that his AI controlled the whole thing. He should have had that at the beginning.

 

Hours later, Bruce carefully emerges from the expansive wreckage wrought amongst Tony's collection of modern vehicles. He's tired, sweaty, and looking a little pissed off. Tony stepped out of the shut off elevator to meet him.

“Dammit Tony,” he rasped, limping through the destruction. His pants hang in tatters from his lean hips, shirt and shoes long gone.

Tony watched his approach, gauging his complete mood. The Hulk had retreated for the moment, leaving just the signs of Bruce. “Don't Bruce. This? Is nothing. I don't care. Let's go back upstairs and you can rest. Are you injured anywhere?”, Tony dismissed the other man's concerns over the losses of the fleet while expressing the worry he had for the doctor.

“M'fine. God, I probably scared that poor girl,” Bruce listed to lean on Tony once he reached the engineer's side. Tony wrapped a supporting arm around the physicist's shoulders.

“She'll be fine. Pepper gave her some paid time off, and we'll make sure she sees someone if she needs it,” Tony explained as they reentered the elevator car for the trip back to the Avengers' levels.

 

Weeks later, on a stormy day, for once not generated by Thor,'s arrival Bruce was relaxing in the relative quiet of the penthouse living room. The rest of the team had decided on a movie that he just wasn't interested in, and Tony had offered the open space and near panoramic view as a place of peace of quiet. Bruce had brought tea and two of his current books, and lounged on the velvet couch like a somnolent bear. The huge floor to ceiling windows allowed the room to be bathed in the warm rays of the sun, and control from JARVIS shaded it on request. Bruce considered it an indulgent slice of heaven and privately wondered how to convince Tony to let him “rent” a piece of the floor and live up here permanently.

He avoided the main view, still charged with scenes of rebuilding, but the skyline was impressive nonetheless. He's deep in his book, ignorant of the world passing by and around the Tower, when voices startle him back to the present.

“Tony, you need to view these contracts, sign the top three and decide the next eight,” echoed Pepper's voice, slightly stressed and anxious.

“Business hours are,” Tony began his usual quip when he wanted to avoid paperwork. There was laughter threading his voice as he spoke.

“Don't you dare, Tony Stark!” Pepper laughed, the timbre of her voice relaxing into the sound. Tony's rich tenor chased her laughter. Bruce let his book fall to his chest, but didn't turn to greet them.

“Hey Bruce? Sorry to disturb your idyll, but Ms. Slave Driver here insists I see to these contracts,” Tony announced as they got closer to the couch. The pair made their way to the breakfast bar to spread the files out.

“It's your place. I'm the interloper. Hi Pepper, how are you?”, Bruce shifted on the couch to sit up and greet the others properly. He eyes them, only a little nervous.

He is startled by the dove gray coat hanging off the back of Pepper's bar chair. He feels his heart race, and the Hulk stir, but tamps it down. He knows he's breathing a little too rapidly, but soldiers on. He stands and goes over to the bar, but on the kitchen side, so he can't see that coat. That lab coat.

“Need me to get out of your way?”, he offers, hoping they'll take him up on it. He knows something's different about their relationship, but hadn't asked Tony about it. Felt it was just too personal, and probably too raw to broach. He kept his eyes strictly on their faces as he waited for the dismissal he needed.

“Nah, this shouldn't take long. Hey, dinner?” Tony asked, a hopeful look on his face. He loved Bruce's cooking.

“What about the rest of the team?” Bruce countered. If he was going to be volunteered for cooking duty, maybe he could still get away from that damn coat, head down to the communal floor. That reminder. He scruffed a hand through his hair, becoming even more agitated.

Tony watched him out of the corner of his vision, taking in the pale complexion, flared nostrils and rapid breathing. The swirling color in the other man's irises behind the glasses. He considered the last few minutes, wondering what might have set off this reaction. When it comes to him, he nearly groaned out loud.

“Hey Pep, can we hang the coat up in the closet? I just had the carpet cleaned, don't need the rain water all over,” Tony's lying, but as long as the coat gets moved, he doesn't care. He slid off his chair, blocking Bruce's view of the edge of Pepper's chair.

“What's that? Oh, fine Tony,” Pepper responded, distracted, flipping through contracts, determining order of importance. Tony grabbed the coat, wrinkling the collar and strode swiftly toward the corridor near his private elevator. Hoping out of sight is definitely out of mind for Bruce, Tony goes back to the kitchen. He takes a couple of deep breaths before picking up where he left off.

“Anyway, dinner? The gang is on its own,” Tony said, pulling himself into his seat again.

“Sure, I guess. Pepper, you staying?” Bruce asked. He turned to the fridge.

“Um,” Pepper looked up, caught Tony's expression and the slight shake of his head, “No thanks, Bruce. I'll steal something from whatever the team gets.”

“If you're sure? Tony, how about fish tacos?” Bruce queried, checking the refrigerator for ingredients. Finds salmon and a host of fresh veggies. He debates the merits of handmade tortillas and just decides to go with it. The distraction of cooking will settle him. He turned back to Tony, expecting an answer.

“Sure,” Tony agreed. His eyes crinkled in pleasure that Pepper had caught on so quickly. Making an excuse to steal her pen, he squeezed her hand in appreciation. She just nodded.

The time it took Bruce to prepare the tacos was just enough for Pepper and Tony to complete their work. Tony leaned over close to Pepper and whispered in her ear, “Do him a favor, lose the coat next time.”

Pepper looked at him, the question clear in her pale blue eyes. She knew something had happened, but hadn't caught the triggering episode.

“It resembles a lab coat. That's a thing now,” Tony elucidates, fingers tapping against the reactor glowing softly under only a single layer of t-shirt.

She blinks, catching on, “Damn. Yes of course. That style? Or?”

“I think it may also be color association. Too close to white. And being female while wearing it or near it,” Tony explained, hand idly dropping to the bar top.

“I'll try to remember,” Pepper swore, a swift nod to emphasize the idea.

“All I can ask. Thanks babe, you're a doll,” he told her, kissing her cheek. She smiled and slid off the chair to her feet.

“Bruce, I'll see you later!”, she called, heading to the elevator. She grabbed her coat, but only folded it over her arm, and then pulled that arm out of the line of sight from the kitchen.

“Sure Pepper, next time, stay,” Bruce returned, a small, warm smile on his face. He didn't watch her leave, focusing on plating the food and getting the tortillas out of the oven.

“Thanks Tony,” he said, sitting down at the bar. Tony just made and ate his tacos, a small, contented smirk on his face.

Dinner was companionably quiet after that. As they cleaned up the small mess Bruce had made, Tony got an idea.

“Hey, let's go up to the family home for awhile. I've been considering a remodel to turn it into a secondary base. It'll also get us out of here, for the remodel that needs to start,” his voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, as he took various dishes from Bruce and dried them to stack away again.

Bruce considered, washing and rinsing each dish and pan he'd used to create dinner. “It'd be to get out of the city for awhile,” he allowed, settling even more. He finished the last dish, and handed it to Tony while turning to look at his friend.

“Good,” Tony said, swiping at the bowl with a damp tea towel before setting it in the stack with the others. He turned to put them away in the cabinet, and said, “We'll leave in the morning, barring work.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – this verse, same as the first. I own nothing that is Avengers. Just the plot, and my original characters. PS – there shouldn't be any significant trigger warnings for this one. There's frank discussion of MPD/DID, so if that's a thing, I'll note it (where the discussion actually happens). I am basing my information off what's available on the internet. I am not a doctor, or therapist; nor do I have this illness. If you do, you have my eternal empathy.

Bruce met Tony the next morning, near the elevator, bag in hand. Tony was pacing before the doors.

“Okay JARVIS, I've go the upgrade packet, and the boys are loaded in the van. What else am I forgetting?” Tony spoke with the AI.

“Ms. Potts knows?” JARVIS quickly prompted.

“Yeah, called her last night. Groceries get ordered?” Tony follows a series of thoughts as they occur to him, still pacing.

“Yes sir. Delivery is expected at 1pm today,” JARVIS informs him.

“Oh, morning Bruce. Ready to head out?” Tony whirled in his pacing pattern, and sees the physicist approaching quietly.

“Yep, just need to figure out breakfast,” Bruce admitted. He'd not been up long, and barely had time to pack. His duffel was full though, and he'd discovered a nice, black leather messenger bag for a tablet, and a few reference books, that had mysteriously appeared on the note covered desk in his room the night before.

“We can grab something on the way. It's only about 2.5 hours away, so we have plenty of time,” Tony happily informed him, a bright smile on his face.

“We're taking the bots?” Bruce queried, having heard that mention when he arrived.

“Yep. They'll be something of a help for the upgrades I'll need to do. Feel up to doing some physical tech work?” Tony explained. The offer was intriguing to Bruce, who was feeling a bit twitchy. He nodded acceptance of the plan, a half smile on his face.

“JARVIS, what did I do with the reels of CAT6 and fiber-optics? And the wall crawler I built to pull wire?” Tony asked the AI.

“Already packed, sir. Butterfingers took care of it this morning for you.” JARVIS now sounded vaguely exasperated, that had Bruce holding back an embarrassing case of the giggles.

“All right. That's all I can think of. We ready?” Tony sighed.

“I'm ready,” Bruce responded, with a smile.

“Whenever you are sir. The vehicle is ready, and the boys are onboard,” JARVIS chimed in. The two scientists walked into the elevator and rode the car to the lower garage that hadn't seen a visit from Hulk. Bruce tensed as they passed the level they'd destroyed.

“Hey, chill. I told you it didn't matter. Those cars are easily replaced. I don't give a damn about them. How many cars can I drive anyway?” Tony was flippant, but serious, noticing the tension thrumming through his friend.

Bruce huffed through his nose, but refrained from comment. He only relaxed a little in the remaining interval.

 

They got to the garage and Tony led the way to the Transit* that held the 3 robots and several boxes. Tony pulled out and used the keyless fob to unlock the doors and start the engine. Bruce pulled open a side door and found a spot to stash his duffel, keeping the messenger bag with him. He then closed that door and opened the passenger door to climb in. The trio of robots in the cargo area trilled happily at seeing him.

“Hi guys. What an adventure, huh?” Bruce chuckled, turning to look at them. Dummy waves its pincher at Bruce, and You and Butterfingers just chirp a happy scale of notes. The reaction from the bots ratchets up a few notches when Tony gets in.

“All right boys! Daddy's finally ready to go. All strapped in?” Tony laughed. He looked at Bruce, clearly indicating the physicist was included in the question.

“Sure,” Bruce returned, snapping the seat belt on. The bots make a series of noises Tony interprets as agreement. He's still the only one who can correctly understand their various noises, but Bruce expects that, given that he created them.

“Onward then,” Tony said, putting the van in gear and heading out.

Once on the road, Tony eyed Bruce, who sat quietly, watching the city drift by his window.

“So, Big Guy...” Tony tentatively started. He wasn't sure Bruce would be receptive to the subject matter he had in mind.

“Yes Tony? Or shall I start calling you 'Little Guy'?” Bruce grinned, a much freer expression than had crossed his face in recent weeks.

Tony chuckled, “Whatever you want.” _But I'd like to hear other words_ he thought to himself, hoping he wasn't blushing.

“What did you want to ask, Tony?” Bruce prompted, looking at Tony before returning his gaze back to the passing landscape.

**DID Discussion Begins**

“Ever hear of a thing called DID?” Tony got straight to the point, mentally crossing his fingers this wasn't going to end up a huge land mine and blow up in his face.

“Dissociative Identity Disorder? Yeah, heard about it, used to be Multiple Personality Disorder,” Bruce knows where Tony is suddenly probing. He doesn't know whether to let Tony ramble, or just come out with it.

'Tell,' Hulk prompts, just as Tony is opening his mouth to start rambling.

“Tony,” Bruce stops him. Tony flickers his gaze to Bruce for a split second, before returning his attention to the road and traffic around him. He stayed silent, passing control of the conversation firmly over to Bruce.

Bruce sighed. “I've never told anyone this. No one,” he said, quietly and not a little nervous. He pulled his glasses off, and rubbed his face before pocketing the glasses. He didn't need focus for this. Tilting his head to rest against the back of the seat, he went on, “After the Gamma incident, I didn't know what had brought the Other Guy to the forefront. Because of my history, the possibility of there being another personality here,” he tapped his head with a finger before dropping that hand back in his lap, clenched tight with the other. “Was incredibly high. In MPD, you usually deal with someone who complains of black outs, lost time, and so on. I didn't have many of those symptoms before the incident, after, there were many until I figured it out. Then, it was when I was attempting control during meditation that we talked for the first time. He claimed his name, and we argued.” Bruce closed his eyes on that memory. Hulk huffed in the back of his mind, not quite angry, but still upset at the memories brought up by the discussion.

When Bruce opened his eyes again, they were swirling brown and green. Tony couldn't directly see the alteration as Bruce refused to turn and look at him.

“And now?” Tony asked softly. He knew this wasn't an easy conversation, and that Bruce's childhood was rougher than his own.

“Now we have something of an agreement, Tin Man,” Bruce/Hulk intoned. Hulk's presence always deepened Bruce's voice, made it rougher than normal. It was hard on his throat sometimes.

“Huh. Calling me Tin Man means Hulk's around. Should have caught that at Hudson. Hi Hulk, any requests for breakfast?” Tony put the data points together. It wasn't a hard leap of logic.

“Omelet, Tin Man. Bruce and Hulk, friends now,” was the last thing Hulk said before retreating back to the mindspace. Bruce coughed a little, clearing his throat from it's abuse, and smiled a half smile that Tony could see. “Yeah, friends is a good analogy. And breakfast would be good, right about now,” he agreed. His eyes slowly calmed back to their normal, sparkling brown.

“Sure, Green Bean. JARVIS, what's nearby?” Tony asked the ever present AI.

**End DID Discussion**

“There is a diner 0.2 miles on the left, sir,” JARVIS replied quickly, having anticipated the question.

“Good, we'll stop there,” Tony maneuvered the van through traffic and into the parking lot of the 50's style diner JARVIS had indicated. The two men got out and Tony looked at his robots. “Stay put boys, don't attract any attention. Especially you, Dummy! No Butterfingers, not right now. Oh here, take the keys you stupid things. J, make sure the van is safe. C'mon Bruce, I need coffee. This up with the sun is for shit,” Tony had given Dummy and Butterfingers his key rings before clapping Bruce on the nearest shoulder. Bruce laughed, heart a little lighter.

 

Breakfast had them discussing one of Bruce's projects for clean water. They weren't avoiding or side stepping the 1 ton, green elephant, they just didn't want to talk about it with strangers around. Bruce had 2 overstuffed omelets that oozed with cheese and veggies, along with juice and coffee. Tony had pancakes and scrambled and all the coffee he could stand. The waitress had to make 2 extra pots.

Ninety minutes later, they were back on the road, after a minor surprise for Bruce.

“You don't need the keys or fob for this vehicle, do you?” he asked, as they approached the van. The door locks popped as soon as Tony was within 5 feet, and the engine turned over at 2 feet. Tony just grinned, baring his teeth, and opened the driver's door to slide into the seat.

“Why am I surprised, this is you,” Bruce chuckled as he also got back into the van.

“And I'm awesome, admit it!” Tony crowed, putting the van in gear, and heading back out on the road. Bruce laughed, for once, an open, free sound. It made Tony's heart soar.

 

For the rest of the trip, they discussed the latest innovations in science, picking apart a dozen theories, lambasting the outlandish ideas, and bemoaning discoveries they wished were theirs. Neither really wanted to get into the whys of DID, especially in Bruce's case. Soon, they pulled up at a tall, wrought iron gate emblazoned with a pair of stylized, gilt, Old English 'S's on the leaves. Tony uncovered a biolock scanner and pressed his left hand to the red lit panel for it to scan. When the panel went green, the gate clanked open on rusty hinges.

“Have to add gate care to the list,” Tony mused, driving through as soon as there was room.

They unloaded the van, and let the bots loose to open the house. Tony went for the basement where he'd put the node for JARVIS to start the upgrades. Bruce found the lab, and began to trundle in the various boxes Tony had put in the van.

Two hours later, Tony finds Bruce sitting in drawing room, looking out over the backyard.

“Well?” Tony queried from the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, just below the arc in his chest.

“It's huge, this place. And the memories,” Bruce shook his head before continuing, “But we'll make it into a better place. When do you want to start, and where?” Bruce had been focused on the overgrown yard, but turned to Tony to ask his question.

“Right after lunch. Pizza's been ordered, but we can see what rooms are available now, if you want?” Tony responded, not really reacting to the comment about memories. He offered the physicist his hand to stand, and led him out of the drawing room. He had an idea of where he wanted Bruce to stay, but knew it would be a hard sell. It was, in his mind, the perfect room for both aspects of the man beside him, but convincing Bruce, or for that matter, Hulk, would take some delicacy instead of Tony's usual 'bull in the china shop' methods.

“C'mon, I've got this idea,” he started, tugging on Bruce's hand. It's a warm and calloused hand, Bruce's. Calloused from long years of hard, manual labor when he'd been trying to hide from the Army. Tony wonders what it would feel like to have that hand lightly caressing his body, and has to hold back a sudden surge of desire for the man ambling beside him. It's not time yet. This will be a long stalk before the capture, he's sure of it.

“All right, Tony! What's going through your mind now?” Bruce let himself be guided out of the drawing room, and out to the stairs to go up to the top most floor. He's keenly aware of the point of contact their entwined hands make. Tony hadn't let go since Bruce had stood, and the warmth was crawling up Bruce's arm and into his chest to lodge somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: * - the vehicle is a Ford Transit Connect, in black. No windows on the back side.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – how about a modicum of fluff? Just a tiny bit of domesticity for a break. No specific warnings apply, save cursing, because, hey, Tony. Oh, there is angst, because that's just where we are in the relationship...can't live without angst. (I'd like to though! Kinda tired of it, personally)

Tony led Bruce through the house. “Forgot this place was so Goddamn big. Well, we don't have to open the whole thing right away. What do you think of an elevator? Ah, who cares, exercise, am I right?” Tony was trying to cover the whirl of emotions by rambling and hoping Bruce stayed distracted trying to keep up.

Bruce just let the sound of Tony's voice wash over him, privately soaking up the dedicated and focused attention he was receiving as if he was basking in the sun. Even Hulk was happy in that moment.

The pair made it to the top floor, and Tony led the way to the back of the house. “Okay, so here's my idea. This room,” and Tony released Bruce's hand with a slight frown, to turn the knob and push open the oak and cherry door. “Ugh, 80s décor. But, this room, has its own solarium attached. Mother liked to garden, and used this room for the delicate plants that couldn't adjust to New York winters. All that mess got donated to the Botanical Gardens, so you have nothing to worry about. I think it'd be a great room for you, able to be a refuge from it all. So, what do you think?” Tony had walked into the room, arms held out to showcase the space, expecting Bruce to follow.

Bruce stepped cautiously over the threshold, oddly nervous to invade this potentially sacred space of Tony's family. Tony spun on a heel to face Bruce, and watched him nervously enter the room. Bruce took in the room, seeing how the left hand wall was made of floor to ceiling glass panels, with a door set on the left hand side. The rest of the room was paneled in oak and cherry, with a pale, blond wood for wainscoting that Bruce didn't recognize. The 12' ceilings bore exposed beams that were painted white, and a couple of old fashioned, faux palm frond fans. He could see another pair of doors on the right hand wall, presumably leading to a closet and bathroom.

“Well, the glass is a concern, but it's a nice room, Tony,” Bruce informed his host, turning to look at him.

“We can replace it with something less likely to break if Hulk sneezes,” Tony said, dismissively.

“Why this one?”, Bruce wanted to know, standing in one spot, not venturing to explore the room, or seeing much of the potential. He looked at Tony, watching his face.

“Well, why not? I figure we can make the solarium into a meditation room or something. This faces northeast, if I remember right, so it won't turn into a sauna if you don't want environmental controls. Could even make the outer glass into something that retracts, so Hulk has his own entrance. The closest room would be mine, once I get a few things changed. Um, if you want, you could take over that room too, if you think you'd need more space.” Tony's rambling was picking up speed, so Bruce had to stop him. 

“All right,” he cut off Tony's ramble neatly, “Let's try this. We can work on some design ideas to update the room, and maybe,” he explained his counter proposal. “Surely there's a room up here that doesn't need a complete overhaul before one of us can stay in it?” he had to ask.

“Um, well,” Tony turned reluctant, a light blush suffusing his face. “If you don't mind sharing with me and the boys?” The billionaire refused to meet the physicist's eyes.

“Tony, how long has it been since you've been up here?” Bruce asked, nearly demanded, hands on his hips in consternation.

“Five years,” Tony whispered, suddenly nervous and uneasy. He very nearly shuffled in place.

“All right. It's okay Tony. Just means there's a lot of work to do on the place. We'll take it one day at a time,” Bruce told him, sympathy in his words. It had occurred to Bruce just how difficult a time Tony was having, being in the mansion again.

“Okay, yeah that works. So, let's look at the other rooms and see what we can do. JARVIS can't access the rooms yet, not until we can confirm the wiring is going to be able to handle the power. After you?”, Tony explained in a rush, waving a hand to indicate they could leave.

Bruce turned and left the room to wait for Tony in the hall. Once together, they looked over the rest of the floor, as if they were on a realtor's tour. Each of the remaining 9 rooms was fairly large, just with outdated décor. One plus was an ensuite bathroom to each space, making each almost a tiny apartment.

“Don't know where to put each team member, but we'll figure something out. C'mon, let's head back downstairs and wait for lunch. You found the lab? Good,” Tony was still very uncomfortable being in the house. The memories threatened to overwhelm him whenever he slowed down to think about where they were and what each room had been. He had to get control of himself if he was going to be able to help Bruce at all.

Bruce noticed his tension, and hoped the changes they made would put some of his awful memories to rest. Hoped that the presence of the team in the future would put some of the demons down. They both had so much to overcome, it was a wonder they weren't permanent members of a psych's office.

The pair meandered downstairs, Tony leading, and ignoring his surroundings as best he could. The hall they were in appeared to be a chronicle of Tony's life, in pictures and news clippings. Bruce slowed to take in the evidence of a young, vulnerable, towheaded child, who, even then, had too much of the weight of the world bearing down on such small shoulders. Bruce reached out and touched one such picture, showing Tony, maybe 8 or 10 years of age, holding up a first place Science Fair ribbon. What was startling was the grin on child-Tony's face. It was a near exact match for the “Press Grin” of today. It broke Bruce's heart to see it, and distantly, he heard Hulk roaring in renewed anger for Tony's old hurts. At least they were on the same page. Bruce clenched his eyes shut against the Hulk's anger, reminding themselves there was nothing they could do about the past, but be damned sure they made Tony happy in the future, in whatever way they could.

“Hey, what's the hold up?” Tony asked, turning back from the end of the hall.

“Nothing, Tony. Just looking at the photos,” Bruce demurred, moving forward to join him. “Your science project award is pretty cool,” he teases.

“Science?” Tony wonders, then he catches on to the particular photo, “Oh that. It was nothing,” Tony brushed off the idea of appreciable accolades.

“Nothing huh? Not everyone can make a completely functional, small model ENIAC* machine at what, 8? 10? Pretty damn impressive if you ask me,” Bruce exhorted, a smile on his face.

“Eh, who cares?” Tony dismissed, with a wave of his hand, getting a little aggravated with the discussion.

“All right Tony. I think it's impressive, even if you don't,” Bruce shrugged, dropping the subject and headed down the stairs ahead of Tony.

Tony watched him go, and a small thrill swooped through his chest. Someone he liked, gave an actual damn about him? He could have floated down the stairs.

 

Back down on the first floor, they linked their tablets and started on a complete overhaul of the place. Ideas tossed back and forth over the next couple of hours, until lunch arrived. They didn't stop working, just kept on, around slices of pizza. A good 5 hours of planning, and they were done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * AN: ENIAC is the first, general purpose computer. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ENIAC It filled a room and ran on vacuum tubes. I do believe that Tony would have been quite capable of recreating this beast, even on a small scale, and have it work. Remember, he created Dummy/Dum-E once he got to college, before JARVIS.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: Still building Stark Towers (or I guess, Avengers Towers) in the sand. Do not own, just playing. PS – I'm sorry, but real life demands have required me to drop my posting to once a month. Please see my profile for ways to stay in touch with me for the in between times.
> 
> Warnings: Back to the angst, kids, sorry. It will not leave me alone. This chapter folds up time, a bit. I'll do my best to break it up, but there is no set reference to how many days pass. Also, dealing with the after effects of nightmares in this, but not the details.

Wrapping up their new plan of action, Bruce realized it was time for dinner. He had put the responsibility of the kitchen and its use solely in his hands, knowing Tony had little desire or talent with food preparation. However, while groceries had been delivered and stored, the kitchen desperately needed a good cleaning before he felt comfortable cooking in it. It was a side effect of how he preferred his lab.

He quietly sighed, trying to avoid Tony's attention while he thought through this problem. They'd either have to order in again, or go out. Both options had their share of problems. Taking delivery, and there would be no break from the ghosts of the past. Going out, meant dealing with a fawning public at best, or really, worst. Neither was a great option, as after the Invasion, few of the Avengers could pass down a New York city street without recognition.

'Well, nothing for it, he needs the break. Hell, I need the break', he thought to himself, watching Tony talk to JARVIS via the tablet. At a likely break, Bruce interrupted, “Tony, let's get out of here for dinner, hm?” The offer is plain, no additional conditions.

Tony whirled mid-sentence, and looked at Bruce, mouth forming an “O” of surprise. “Why?” fell from his lips.

“That kitchen isn't ready, won't be ready,” Bruce shook his head, “And, well, I want a break. If we stay here, we'll work. I'm tired,” he lied, hoping Tony didn't pick up on it.

“Oh, that's fair. Okay, let's go,” and mercurial Tony spun away to find his car keys, shouting, “Daddy's going out, behave!” to the robots.

“C'mon lollygagger, let's get a move on!” he throws over his shoulder as he moved to the front door. Bruce shook his head, stood and followed.

 

&&

Over the course of the next few weeks, they work on stripping the large house practically to its fundament. Wallpaper was torn off the walls, old fixtures removed, carpeting pulled. New fixtures were installed. Bruce convinced Tony to forgo carpeting in most of the house, and just replacing it in rooms it seemed right to reinstall it.

They shared space in the basement lab, the only place really livable while they redid the upper stories. Nights were interesting. Each dealt with nightmares, and required a certain delicacy to handle. Several nights, it felt like they stood sentinel over each other, as one would rescue the other from the awful dreams, then the rescuer would try to sleep, letting the process repeat until day break.

It was a wonder they found any true rest.

Bruce had insisted on a pallet on the floor, not wanting to trust he'd not hurt Tony with his inevitable flailing. He also didn't want to run the risk of a 'Hulk-out' if Tony hit him while struggling in the depths of his own nightmares. On the fourth night of this, Tony spectacularly struck out at Bruce when the doctor came to pull him out. Surprised, Bruce's control slipped, and Hulk took over, concerned and worried for his Tin Man.

The huge, green man scooped Tony into a cuddle, resembling a parent with a scared child. Humming off key, a half forgotten memory, Hulk began to rock back and forth, trying to calm Tony down. A single, sausage thick digit carefully pet Tony's head and chest. And it was this soft tapping that finally broke the nightmare's hold, allowing Tony to wake up.

His eyes blink open to take in a surrounding blend of black shadows and green warmth. “Oh God,” he sighed, and shattered, crying, turning into the leathery, velvet hide of the broad chest that supported him.

Hulk rumbled, hoping it was a soothing kind of noise. He tried to remember what had helped them in the distant past, and shifted Tony's tense body so he could reach the engineer's back and rub it gently. It felt right, like something he'd had a very long time ago. Tony was completely encircled and hidden from view of all but JARVIS' sensors while he heaved wracking sobs. Hulk just kept giving comfort and support according to half remembered memories of a broken childhood, for an hour, until Tony's sobbing died off and he was reduced to the odd sniffle. They might have faintly heard Tony's bots chirping and bleeping in distress, but they were ignored.

Believing the tempest to be over, Hulk gave Tony one last, very soft pat on the back and gave back control to Bruce. The shifts were quick, hardly painless, but both went quietly, as neither wished to draw attention away from Tony and his needs.

Bruce held Tony tighter, and whispered to him, “You're okay. Not alone. Never alone if I can help it.” Over and over he spoke, quiet words of companionship. And maybe, maybe something more, if Bruce believed in himself.

Another 30 minutes passed before Tony took a deep breath and stiffened to pull away. Bruce let him go, reluctantly.

“Thank you,” Tony quietly said, scrubbing a hand through his hair, then wiping his face with both hands.

“You've done as much for me, these past few nights,” Bruce replied, just as quiet, hands laid in his lap, fingers twisted together.

Tony grunted in agreement, lost in thought. He looked at the bots grouped around them, close, but far enough away that Hulk had easily ignored them, considering his next move.

“Bruce? Would it be easier if we shared the bed?” Tony suddenly asked, glancing at him through his eyelashes.

Bruce considered this idea a moment, and said, “Maybe. Wouldn't have to stumble across the room, half asleep. Some nights, it's like trying to avoid Legos around here.”

“I used to sleep better when Pepper was with me,” Tony admitted in a barely heard whisper, head down, eyes closed. He didn't want Bruce to think he waned some kind of sexual favor or teddy bear, but it did help to have a presence near him while sleeping.

“When you slept at all, I'm sure,” Bruce said, with a bit of a laugh.

Tony snorted, amused. “Yes that is a prerequisite, Doc,” he said, moving to stand. “C'mon, Bed's way more comfortable than the concrete floor.” He offered Bruce a hand in getting up.

Bruce took Tony's proffered hand and hauled himself up. He then noticed the draft around his derriere. “Ah, that explains the black out,” he said, chagrined.

“It was rather green in here for awhile,” Tony grinned, his unrepentant side emerging a little.

“Yeah, some times he as to handle a situation, regardless of how I feel about it,” Bruce admitted, “Though we do find ourselves in agreement from time to time.” He padded quickly back to his duffel and found another pair of pants to sleep in.

“Well, that explains why you prefer a particular type of pant,” Tony surmised.

“In the interest of factual reporting, I don't normally sleep in any clothes,” Bruce admitted with a faint blush. Tony looked at him in the semi-darkness, a single brow raised. “Too many episodes in the early days of feeling constricted and getting rather irritated by it,” Bruce shrugged, and Tony by the bed.

Bruce then waited for Tony to slide in before doing so himself. That night, they managed undisturbed sleep for the first time in at least a month.

 

&&

A few days later, Bruce was in the hall lined with photos from Tony's childhood. He was carefully removing the pictures, wrapping them in bubble wrap, and crating them up for storage. Each was a small window into the childhood of his friend. Visual evidence of the downward slide from a happy, trusting child, to a sullen, angry teen, crossed the years before him.

He took down one picture, a family portrait of the Starks when Tony was, at best, 12. The blank eyed look was present on Tony and Maria's faces, and oddly, a banked rage, all too familiar to Bruce, on Howard's. Bruce knows, from SHIELD records, that Howard was an alcoholic, just like his own father. He does not believe that Howard was physically violent towards either his wife or son. But he's not sure, and damned sure wasn't about to ask.

“No one's had the ideal childhood on this team, have they Dummy?” he asked of the robot helping him, depressed. Dummy chirped an interrogative. “No, it's fine. We don't need...”

“Bruce?”

'Damn', Bruce thought to himself, 'too slow'. Tony stood at the end of the hall, partially out of breath from running up the stairs. “I'm fine, Tony. Did Dummy?” he asked, leaving the question open.

“Yeah, JARVIS relayed the ping. What are you up to?” Tony answered, looking around the half empty hall.

“Pulling your gallery down. Or did you want fodder available for Clint and Natasha? Or Steve?”, Bruce said, handing Dummy the now bubble wrapped frame to be put in the crate. Dummy's pincer claw carefully clasped the frame and he turned on his chassis to slot the wrapped picture in with the rest. Tony snapped his jaw shut on a witty comeback. Each situation Bruce mentioned was potentially weird, when Tony thought about it. Clint would see it as an opportunity to harass him about 'silver spoons', while Natasha would just use it as a way to control him. Steve would just ask for stories about growing up with Howard. Tony certainly didn't want to hand any kind of ammunition to the spy twins, nor to All American himself. He focused on the photos, pushing down the simmering anger that surged like the tide whenever he thought of Steve.

When Dummy turned back to Bruce, he chirped again, and Bruce nodded.

“Yes, if that one's full, we'll have to get another crate. Can you get it back to the basement? Or shall we haul it to the attic?” The last question was directed at Tony, who was lost contemplating the remaining photos, trying to remember when each was taken. “Tony?” Bruce brought Tony back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry,” Tony said, chagrined at being caught out, reminiscing. “Um, storage?” he thought for a moment. “I've got a vault for such things, a conservation company. We'll put the crates downstairs, and give them a call to collect those, and some of the antiques.” Bruce agreed and gave Dummy his directions.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own. Just building sandcastles!

The work to modernize the mansion continued, with the only pauses when Pepper called Tony to deal with some kind of SI work. On one such occasion, he'd had to leave Bruce in the middle of pulling wire in the bedrooms they'd set aside for the team. Bruce continued the job, recruiting You as an assistant, rather than equipment stand, and utilizing the tiny, wall crawling bot Tony had created specifically for this kind of work.

Tony left the room, trying to convince Pepper he wasn't needed for a board meeting.

“Pepper, why do they want me there?” Tony whined, as he turned into the hall. Bruce tuned out the half conversation and went over to grab the next spool of wire to splice in place.

“Yes, You, we're going to finish this room,” Bruce told the bot that hovered nearby, and chirped an interrogative. Bruce was coming to understand some of the noises the bots made, usually inferring from the situation when he spoke with them. He hung the spool on one of You's stationary, stubby arms and indicated the section of wall with a hole knocked into the drywall.

 

Twenty minutes later, Tony returned to that last bedroom, and found Bruce, You, and the little spider bot finishing up the last connections to the house intranet.

“Well, busy beavers while I was away,” Tony said, pleased. He was happy that Bruce was making connections with the boys. It was important to him, for some reason he avoided looking at too closely. Though in the quiet moments, that introspection came out and flagged his interactions for intense study.

“We're done with this room. Remind me what we have left?” Bruce replied, wrapping loose wires into caps for safety. As he finished, each wire is tucked back into the wall, where the spider bot takes them and clamps them down to nearby 2 by 4s using a miniature staple gun.

“Hm,” Tony said, pulling out his phone, where an app he'd created tracked their progress. “Looks like these rooms are finished. We just need to patch holes and paint. Or call someone in to do that, along with the bathroom refittings and the work on your room.” The last was more of a question than statement, making Bruce look intently at Tony, who fidgeted. He had that tendency when he didn't want to address a problem. It was subtle, and mostly visible if he was standing still. Hell, they both twitched and fidgeted a lot.

“What's wrong?” he asked, squatting to put the tools away in the box at his feet. He dropped his gaze, having the distinct feeling that something important had happened.

“Yeah, um. I have to go back to the city. Pepper said I forgot about this one meeting that 'absolutely cannot be rescheduled'. I'm sorry,” Tony made the air quotes as he spoke, face closed down. Tony wouldn't look Bruce in the eyes.

'He's lying, why', Bruce wondered to himself. Hulk was oddly quiet, had been for days while they worked companionably. Bruce wasn't sure what that was about, but couldn't take the time to ask.

“Huh. Well, we can go back?” Bruce offered, not really wanting to return to the city just yet. The nightmares had settled a little, gone back to his 'normal ones' of his father and the glow of gamma.

“No, no,” Tony shook his head, “Won't work. Someone needs to be here for the work crews.” He sighed. Tony had wanted to be there for that, but this was more than a board meeting. Tony continued to fidget, rubbing his hands together, and shifting from side to side.

“Tony,” Bruce quietly centers himself to look at him, “This isn't some meeting with the board is it?”

“Well,” he began, fingers twitching with nerves, “You're right, it's not.” He sighed, one hand going up to rub his scalp. “There's an inquest on the incident.” He didn't need to specify which incident. “SHIELD is turning the matter over to civilian authorities, and we've been asked to give depositions,” he continued quietly. Bruce deserved the truth, though he had wanted to protect him by attempting to not mention that incident. Or anything associated with it.

“And I'm not required?” Bruce asked, unable to keep the hopeful note out of his voice.

“Pepper managed to get the investigators to hold off for the moment, but it'll be another week, I'm sure,” Tony replied, a half smile crossing his lips, but fading quickly.

“Well, best we can hope for. I had better write it down at least. Maybe that will keep them off my back for awhile longer,” Bruce said with a sigh. He finished putting the tools away and stood back up. “Alright, I'll stay and keep an eye on the place. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll be done same day and be back tomorrow night, but who really knows? Could be like a Congressional hearing and go on for days,” Tony shrugged, heading out of the room. Bruce slowly followed, considering his next move.

“How about dinner in a little while? I'll write up what I remember, and get started after,” Bruce offered, trailing behind Tony, who was heading downstairs.

“Sounds good. Going to make sure JARVIS can use the wiring properly,” Tony agreed quickly, latching onto the tiny bit of normal like a dog on a bone.

They split up at the bottom of the stairs, Tony for the lab and Bruce for the kitchen.

 

Bruce sat at the little prep island and stared at the screen of his tablet. He didn't particularly want to remember the events of his kidnapping and torture, but realized he truly didn't have much choice. Certain aspects had taken on a particular, distant and fuzzy feeling to them, as he attempted to dissociate from the memories. He picked up the rarely used stylus and began writing, attempting to keep his emotions at bay while detailing the events of a few weeks ago.

Thirty minutes later, he felt stretched thin. He tapped an icon in the corner of the tablet, alerting JARVIS.

“Please tell Tony that dinner will be late, if I manage to come back. But I need to get outside, before the kitchen needs remodeling,” Bruce spoke to the AI, knowing his message would be passed on. He left the kitchen, and padded to the nearest door leading outside. Once there, he toed off his shoes and stripped off his shirt. Folding it, he dropped it on the loafers and then proceeded out the door, clad only in sweatpants.

He shivered a little with the change of air from climate controlled to summer heat, but quickly adjusted. The pea gravel that constituted a transition shifted beneath his bare feet as he moved away from the brick edifice. A small part of his consciousness remarked on the idea of a patio there before he gave his thoughts over to the Hulk. The transformation rippled through him, enlarging his lean body and altering his skin tone. The sweats ripped along the seams, barely leaving anything to modesty.

 

Hulk gave a mighty roar, happy to be free once more. He stretched, as though releasing knots in his back, and popping joints. Snorting, he cataloged the odors of this new place, marking it as 'safe' for the time being. He quickly detected the scent they associated with Tony-Tin Man, and turned on the spot to see Tony appear in the recently used doorway, sans metal shell.

“Well, hello Big Guy, long time no see. What brings you out?” Tony was careful, unsure about the situation, and what would have summoned the Hulk.

“Banner. Bad thoughts,” the great behemoth growled. His face scrunched up in a frown. Those thoughts echoed, and he really didn't like them.

“Oh, I understand. He was writing something for me. What are you going to do?” Tony asked, watching him.

Hulk huffed, and looked around at the manicured landscape of the backyard. “Explore,” he growled, and stumped off, heading for the tree line.

Tony called out, “Hey, wait a sec!” Hulk stopped and looked over one broad, green shoulder, confused at having been stopped.

“Um,” Tony shifted nervously, “I haven't had a chance to talk to Bruce about this, but I made something for you. Can you wait just a minute while I get it?”

“Will wait, not long,” Hulk grumped, turning back to view the woods at the far end of the manicured lawn.

Tony spun on his heel, and rushed back inside to get to the lab where he'd stashed the GPS locator he managed to create for his teammate. The device resembled a garage door opener on a stretchy strap for Hulk's wrist. It was mixed in a box of miscellaneous hardware he'd packed from the Tower, thinking he'd need it. Digging it out, he called to JARVIS.

“J, turn on the Hulk GPS unit. Seems our boy wants to go walkies.”

“At once sir. My optical sensors are inadequate for the kitchen. Is everything all right?”

“Right as rain. I'll be back,” Device in hand, Tony shot back up the stairs and across the backyard. “Here Big Guy!” he called to the behemoth impatiently waiting on him.

Hulk turned around to see squishy-Tony running towards him, some kind of strange, tiny box dangling by its straps from his hand. He grunted, surprised. No one ever ran towards Hulk.

'Heh, Tony's special' came the sound of Banner in his head. Banner was right. No one else in Hulk's experience treated them like Tony did. He liked it, liked Tony.

Tony slid to a stop in the grass, not two feet from Hulk. “Here, this gizmo will act as a beacon so I can find you if the team needs you before you come back, or Bruce comes back,” he rambled, holding up the black, plastic box and straps.

“How Hulk carry box?” Hulk asked, confused. He never wore anything, but the shredded remains of whatever clothing Banner had worn prior to the transformation. Carrying objects around meant he'd have a lesser chance of adequately protecting themselves.

“These,” Tony grabs the straps. “It's Velcro. I know Bruce knows what that is, but it holds without tying or buttons. Just have to wrap it around a wrist or ankle. Did I make this waterproof? Damn, can't remember.”

“Tony talks too much. Banner laughing,” and he was. Hulk could hear the all too rare sound of Bruce's deep belly laughs as they listened to Tony go on about the odd little device. “Banner say wrist,” Hulk said, breaking Tony's patter and holding out his right arm.

“Okay, no problem.” Tony wrapped the straps around the thickly muscled wrist, smoothing the Velcro into place. “The red light should stay lit as long as the locator has power. Which, it shouldn't ever run out. Anyway,” Tony patted the locator. “This will make it easy for me to find you. The signal is encrypted, which means only JARVIS can track it, not even SHIELD.”

“Safe?”

“Yes, as safe as I can make it, which is very safe. Now, feel free to explore the woods. I'll be back in a couple of days.” He spoke to Hulk, knowing that he shared intelligence with Bruce, but wasn't as capable of articulating as Bruce was. Telling him it would be days before they saw each other again, allowed for the hope that Bruce would come back before Tony left. He'd sleep better that night if the scruffy doctor was back home.

Hulk nodded and touched the locator gently before he turned and leapt away from Tony and the mansion.

Tony watched him disappear into the horizon before going back into the house. “JARVIS, record a message for Bruce to play when he gets back, but only if I'm not here. Then order Chinese from town for dinner. He'll be in no condition to cook,” he spoke quietly, tiredly to his AI. He slumped against the door he just came through. 'When would the hits stop coming?' he wondered. 'When will they get a chance to let their guard down?'

“As you wish, sir,” JARVIS responded, just as quiet.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own. No specific warnings this time. Just, usual angst, and drama.

Tony tinkered in the lab after the food arrived. He chose not to eat, but watched the tracking program while fiddling with the repulsor tech. The dot moved through the forest, about 5 miles off, and then became stationary.

Hours passed, with the sun setting before the dot representing the Hulk on the screen appeared to be heading back to the mansion. Tension unraveled from Tony's body as the blip slowly moved closer. He straightened from the bench, stretching the various knots out of his back and shoulders.

"JARVIS, make sure Bruce knows there's food in the fridge. I'm going to try and sleep," he informed his computer, heading for the bed on the far side of the lab, stripping off his tank top.

"Of course, sir," JARVIS replied, dimming the lights in the lab while Tony fell into bed, and dragged the sheet up to his waist.

 

Outside, Bruce had indeed returned, and was slowly making his way through the forest near the mansion. He needed to make a survey of any damage they might have done, but found none. It appeared that the hazy memory of Hulk finding a creek and just sitting was the honest truth of how the evening had progressed. It made him feel better about the whole mess. They had spent considerable time in the headspace, trying to figure out the depths of meaning attached to the locator that Bruce now carried. Astonished that Tony would bother, Bruce had convinced Hulk to keep it, rather than destroying it out of fear that someone other than Tony would be able to use it to hurt them. It gave them a tiny surge of hope, and warmed their hearts to believe that someone finally thought they were worth something beyond a tool or weapon.

Along the return path to the mansion, Bruce found likely hiding places that he could use for when they needed quiet periods away from the team. He marked several trees, and built rock cairns to leave some sign of where he thought they'd be safest. He'd also made mental note to find out how much of the mountainous area belonged to Tony.

 

He reached the yard, and paused at the edge of the tree line to scan the open area between him and the safety of the house. He didn't think there were any security measures in place, but didn't have the fortitude to stay the night in the woods. He admitted to himself to having gotten spoiled on Tony's luxury in the few short months that he'd been staying at the Tower. With a bone deep, incredibly weary sigh, he moved forward across the lawn to the house. He paused at the door, and tested the handle. It softly clicked open, allowing Bruce to push through and step inside.

He was taken by surprise when one of the bots loomed up out of the semi darkness with a low series of hoots, and blinking headlights.

"Damn it!" he gasped, momentarily frozen in place, both arms up defensively, and eyes nearly emerald. "Be careful, please, Butterfingers. You nearly got smashed," he told the mechanical lab assistant.

"Our sincerest apologies Dr. Banner. I do not yet have complete control of the house and therefore could not turn on any lights for you."

"Jeez, JARVIS! Same goes for you!" Bruce choked out a laugh, and breathed deeply a few times to calm his racing heart. Somehow he had forgotten that JARVIS was even there. "Have you always been able to piggy back on the bots?"

"Yes sir, though we have not really needed to before now," JARVIS sounded as repentant as a computer simulation could.

"It's okay guys. Just, surprise can be a bad thing. I guess we'll have to work in here tomorrow," Bruce said, feeling calmer.

"Yes sir. If I may, Mr. Stark requested you be informed of the leftovers in the kitchen."

"Tomorrow, JARVIS, I'm beat. Where is Tony?"

"Attempting to sleep, sir."

"I bet I know how well that is going. Ugh. I need a shower, but the upstairs bathrooms aren't usable yet. Guess I'll chance it," Bruce headed for the stairs down to the lab, Butterfingers trailing after him, headlights lighting the way. The bot's altered treads thumped on the risers in a gentle repetition as Bruce ventured deeper under the main floor of the mansion. Once in the lab, Butterfingers rolled over to his portable docking station for recharging.

Bruce slipped out of the shredded remains of his sweatpants, once he realized the lab was completely dark, save for the faint glow of a partially uncovered arc reactor. He carefully padded his way to the bathroom, where JARVIS was able to have the shower on and waiting for him. He pulled the door shut, but didn't bother with any lights.

"Thank you JARVIS," he sighed, stepping into the hot shower. He took his time, even knowing it was late. He wanted to be clean after losing control like that, and tried scrubbing many layers off his skin. Satisfyingly pinked from the scrub and copious amounts of hot water, Bruce shut the tap off and opened the stall door to grab a towel. Quickly drying off, he decided to take a chance and sleep in the nude this one night. He didn't want to rummage for clothes and run the risk of waking Tony. Neither slept well, for all it was marginally better together.

“Good night, JARVIS."

"Good night, sir."

Bruce slowly padded out of the bathroom, across the bedroom and managed to not trip over anything that might have been on the floor. It made him guess that one of the bots had managed to clean up the living space. One knee brushed the frame, and Bruce managed to follow the edge of the bed around to his side before sitting down. He laid down in bed, with his back to Tony, and closed his eyes.

"Feel better?" whispered Tony.

"Mhm." For once, he didn't startle, Tony's presence largely an unusual calming influence. He'd also noted that Tony's breathing was too irregular for him to be asleep.

"Night, Big Man."

 

The next morning, Bruce was up and out of bed before Tony, and in the bathroom when JARVIS prodded him awake. Tony stumbled blearily into the room, bumping the other man on his way to the shower. Bruce chuckled. Tony was not at his best before coffee. The shower steamed the room, covering the mirror with a thick layer of condensation.

Bruce sighed, looking at his razor. He really didn't want to fuss with trying to keep the mirror clean. 'Well, not the first time' he thought, picking up the cup of lather and wetting the little brush. He daubed shaving lather all over his cheeks and chin, laying it on thickly. Once satisfied, he grabbed the straight razor and started scrapping foam and fuzz off into the sink.

Tony watched from behind the shower door, as Bruce slowly carved paths through the froth on his face, revealing the chiseled cheeks and rounded chin piece by piece. It was fascinating to Tony, watching this man work, eyes gently closed as though he were asleep standing up. Each stroke with the hardened steel was flawlessly smooth and obviously taken with care.

It showed that Bruce had had quite a lot of practice and such careful attention awoke a maelstrom of emotion in Tony. He wondered what it would be like to be under such intense focus.

Such thinking threatened to make him hard, not a situation that would be welcome at the present. Tony shook his head, making water fly, as he cleared his mind. He quickly went back to the impersonal thoughts he'd had upon waking, worrying about this deposition, if he'd get done in one day, if Bruce would be all right.

"Hey Tony?" Bruce called over the rushing water. "I'm going to start breakfast, and finish my report."

"Sure, man. I'll be upstairs in a few minutes."

Bruce waved, leaving the bathroom, chinos sitting low on his hips, and his broad back bare.

Tony decided he did indeed have a few precious minutes to 'waste' on the rapt contemplation of the thought of one scruffy, curly haired physicist with breathtaking anger issues.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gets some much needed alone time. The team makes an appearance again. Hulk gets to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still playing in Marvel's sandbox. Do not own, make no claims to own, can't own. Wish I might though.
> 
> Warnings: None, other than discussion of how to deal with possible triggers
> 
> Missed me? Have an extra long chapter just cuz. Have I figured out that balancing more than one story is nuts? YEP!

Breakfast was slightly awkward on Tony's part, but he thought he hid it well, since Bruce barely said two words after he showed up in the kitchen.

Bruce hadn't bothered with a shirt, giving him a splendid view of a toned upper body covered in dark hair. It didn't help, but Tony was determined. He could not afford to screw this up. He'd just savor the imagery in private moments.

“How do you want your eggs?” Bruce asked from the stove, stirring a pan of hash. He asked every morning, never assuming.

“Scrambled today, please. Shall I manage the toast?” Tony said, nodding his head in the direction of the toaster sitting on the counter close to the pantry.

“Sure, I think you can handle that,” Bruce said in teasing agreement, turning to the counter to crack eggs into a bowl. Satisfied there were no shells or other problems, Bruce whisked in a bit of milk, and a tiny pinch of salt before pouring the mixture in a steaming, buttered pan. It was a running joke that Tony couldn't so much as boil water. They'd agreed that Tony would only attempt any cooking, if Bruce was there to watch him.

Tony watched him work, carelessly dropping slices of bread into the toaster. “Tell me again where you learned to cook?” he asked, leaning a hip against the counter to openly appreciate the talented man beside him.

“Self defense,” Bruce laughed, “College was not party central for me, but I took a few cooking courses.” He shrugged, “Roommates appreciated how quickly their hangovers could be dealt with because I had a hot plate and a fridge. Everyone kept it stocked for me, and I ate well during my graduate years.” He managed to avoid mentioning Betty, but only just. Stirring the firming egg mixture in the pan, he thought about those years. “That was how I survived college, though not always 'curing' hangover, mostly just feeding the other kids on my floor. After everything, I was able to get the occasional job as a short order cook.”

By the time he was done, there was a small mountain of fluffy yellow eggs in the pan. “Grab a couple plates, hm?”

“Sure, let me finish the toast,” Tony suited actions to words and had 6 slices buttered and halved before he reached into a nearby cabinet for the stoneware. He handed the plates to Bruce and went back for a small one for the toast.

“Juice with your coffee?”

“No, not today thanks.”

Plates were loaded up and carried to the table. Bruce went back to get a glass of orange juice. Tony took the toast and his own large mug of black coffee. They settled in silence to eat, finding it unnecessary to chatter after all their time together.

Tony thought about dragging out breakfast, but realized it would only delay the inevitable, so he ate steadily, giving Bruce the occasional worried glance over the rim of his mug.

Bruce ignored him, focusing on the list of tasks he had remaining. “So when do the plumbers arrive?” he asked, finishing the last of the toast. Tony had managed 2 halves for himself. Bruce was usually quite ravenous after a transformation, and Tony had been surprised to find him in bed instead of waist deep in the fridge the previous night.

“After lunch is what I told them. They informed me that they'd survey the work and pull together an estimate of completion. They are supposed to work on our rooms first,” Tony said, finishing off his eggs and hash. He got up, gathered the plates and flatware, and took everything to the kitchen. He quickly put all the dirty things in the dishwasher, leaving the leftovers to Bruce. He refilled his mug with more coffee as he turned to face Bruce again.

“You still don't have to stay here. These people coming, they've been here before, so I have no concerns. Besides, we pulled out the truly valuable stuff already!” Tony tried to convince the other man, throwing in a touch of dry humor. And realized it was futile when he caught the shuttered look on Bruce's face.

“No Tony. It's okay, really. Some alone time will be good for me. Low chance of another transformation, even with the construction going on,” Bruce said, walking into the kitchen to clean up.

“All right. Just, call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Now, get out of here before Pepper calls!”

“Yes, dear!” They laughed. Tony clapped Bruce on the shoulder and left him.

 

Bruce's enhanced hearing caught the faint rumble of the armor's boot jets minutes later. He sighed, slumping over the sink, up to his elbows in suds as he cleaned the cookware. Alone at last.

A soft beep called out to him and he turned his head to see Butterfingers and Dummy hovering in the doorway, the tiny spider bot on Dummy's twitching arm. Well, not so alone.

“Morning you three. Give me a few minutes to finish here, and we'll get started, okay?” he told them.

They trilled happily and backed out into the living room to wait.

 

The morning was spent hauling and pulling wire for the large common areas, including the kitchen. The wall crawler that Bruce had simply named Bug did a lot of the work, and Bruce wondered if he should ask Tony to make another. The tiny, palm sized bot removed old wire that wouldn't hold the data loads and pulled the new wire into place, splicing as necessary. Dummy and Butterfingers moved spools, dragging over full new ones, and taking away the respooled old wire.

Bruce didn't have much to do other than double checking the connections and whether the date stream was flowing properly. He stopped long enough to reheat some of the food Tony had ordered in, for his lunch, then again for dinner after the plumbers had completed their inventory.

 

They had arrived as Tony had stated, and Bruce showed them the house before letting them get to work. The plumbers checked all of the current pipes and connections, and then worked out where they would need to put in the requested bathrooms in the newly made bedrooms.

Bruce ignored them unless they needed something, which was, fortunately, rare.

 

The first two days went by without issue. On the third day, Bruce welcomed the plumbers inside, then excused himself for the day. He had promised the Hulk another afternoon to explore the wooded portion of the Stark property.

“JARVIS, any news from Tony?” he asked while in the lab bedroom, finding a clean pair of sweats to ruin.

“I am afraid not, Doctor. I have received nothing new regarding the house or yourself. I am sorry,” the AI replied, a note of contrition in his voice.

“Well, I'm sure he's busy. The bots are okay with today?”

“Yes sir. There are tasks programmed for them to run. And I will contact Mr. Stark if you have not returned after 8 hours.”

“Okay. I've got the tracker, and I'll leave my spare pants in the kitchen. See you later, JARVIS.”

“Enjoy your day, Doctor.”

 

After Bruce left, JARVIS tried to contact Tony anew, but was ignored. The information gleaned from the Tower indicated he was busy with Pepper, dealing with SI work. JARVIS left a note regarding contacting Bruce and then went about his own tasks, dividing his attention between the Tower, the mansion, and the house in Malibu and all related security.

 

Bruce went upstairs and left a folded pair of denim jeans on the bar dividing the kitchen from it's eating nook. The plumbers had checked the kitchen and had only upgraded the garbage disposal, then never gone near it again. He stepped barefoot out into the backyard and made his way to the tree line, the tracking device in one hand. As he hit the forest, the change rippled and rolled over him, so much easier when it was accepted and embraced. He barely stumbled, even as his feet grew 4 sizes.

Hulk paced across the forest floor, fastening the Velcro strap of the black box Tin Man and Banner had insisted he wear when away from the House-home. Banner snorted at the appellation, but refrained from comment. He knew Hulk had a better grasp on the language than he let on.

The day was spent investigating all the places they had marked the last time they'd been out there.

Hulk found the quiet soothing and had fun skipping rocks into the small lake, creating waves that eventually lapped at his toes. He explored the waterfall that fed the lake, and found several varieties of fish, and a few turtles in the depths. Scared a few deer, and rabbits, and discovered a number of jays that did not like having their nests spied upon. A marching line of quail chicks behind their mother made Hulk laugh.

 

When the sun hung low in the sky, Hulk was prompted mentally to return to the house. At the tree line, the transformation was triggered again, and at each step away from the forest, more of Bruce was revealed. Not 10 feet from the door, he sank to his knees to catch his breath and assimilate the memories. Rocking back onto his heels, Bruce scrubbed his hands over his face and went through a series of breathing exercises to center himself back in control of the body.

The door to the house slid open, startling him out of the meditation he'd established, causing his eyes to flash a virulent green as they assessed for threats.

“Dr. Banner!” It was Captain Rogers. They relaxed minutely. Bruce's eyes slid closed. The pounding of their heart began to slow.

“What are you doing out there? Is there anything wrong?” The earnestness in Rogers' voice made their skin crawl.

“Give me a minute, please,” Bruce said, holding up a hand to ward off any approach.

The footsteps halted, in a separate tempo, telling them that there was someone else present. They sniffed the air, discovering the scents associated with Steve Rogers, and Clint Barton.

Very faintly, but steadily increasing, was the scent associated with Romanov.

Bruce resumed his interrupted session, electing to shorten it with the arrival and annoyance of the team. He hadn't expected them back, and wasn't sure how he felt about the interruption of his peace. The surprise of the team's appearance made Bruce flashback to when he'd been alone, on the run, and hunted. He knew the situation lacked the overwhelming feel of THREAT, but if he didn't get himself under control, there was great potential for worse. By the time he was done, Hulk had accepted that these were indeed his teammates, and Bruce was fully in control, for now.

He stumbled to his feet, opening his eyes and smiling at his teammates, attempting to project a sense of benign calmness. “What brings you out here?” he asked, haltingly leading the way back into the house.

“Came to talk with you about our venture to DC,” Steve said brightly, hovering, ready to help if Bruce stumbled again.

“Oh,” Bruce said, voice dropping to a whisper. He got inside the house and took the pants Natasha was holding out. “Thanks.” He limped past her to the nearby bathroom to change.

“JARVIS?” he asked, while in the bathroom. He leaned against the pedestal sink, avoiding the reflection in the mirror.

“Yes sir?”

“Is it too late to add to the delivery order?”

“I have already done so, sir. The others will have their favorites along with your order. Estimated time of delivery, 10 minutes.”

“Thank you.” The words were heartfelt. Bruce realized he'd have a harder time of it if JARVIS wasn't available. He'd have to thank Tony for leaving the AI there. He went out to inform the rest of the team.

“Thank you Bruce,” Steve said, sitting at the bar. Bruce waved it off, going to the stove to make tea.

Natasha tried to unobtrusively insert herself between Bruce and the stove, concerned about his apparent instability, as he still limped quite noticeably.

Bruce stilled, the filled kettle in hand, eyes on the dainty dangerous redhead. “Can I help you?” he asked quietly, tonelessly.

She looked into his eyes, finding the swirled hazel fascinating. “Stark get you contacts, Doctor?” she asked, trying to disarm and keep him calm.

“What? No, not that I was aware. Eye exams are pretty personal, nearly invasive,” Bruce replied, beginning to ramble in his exhaustion. He could hear Hulk growling in the mindscape.

“Your eyes aren't brown. And are you okay? You're shaking,” she said, eyes flicking down once to catch the slight tremble in his arms.

“Post transformation adrenaline dump. That's why I am making tea, and food's on its way. Excuse me,” he said, hoping she got the message.

“Doesn't explain the eyes, Doc,” Clint said, though he couldn't confirm Natasha's commentary. He took it on faith, as usual, that she'd seen something worrisome.

Bruce's eyes closed in a slow, deliberate blink. On reopening, they had returned to a pale brown, like well watered coffee. He looked at Natasha, quietly asking her to move out of his way. She did, allowing him to put the kettle on the stove and turn the burner on.

“All right. Everyone sit, it's story time,” he said, turning to wave Natasha to the bar. “Drinks? We've got the usual,” he offered. Steve and Clint requested soda, and Natasha requested her own mug of tea.  
Bruce made the tea, and proffered the second mug to Natasha, before putting his back to the farthest counter, and heaving a deep sigh. He began speaking of his effort to try to understand Hulk, after several years of trying to suppress him. He covered the more recent work of training with some practitioners of a spiritual sect in India that worked with an obscure idea surrounding constructed personalities different from the base.*

Each person he spoke to listened with all their attention to the information about Bruce's particular type of dissociative identity disorder. How he'd had it since childhood, given his background, and that it had formed the Hulk; how the gamma part of the super serum recreation had given Hulk his own body.*

“Wow,” Clint said, breathily. “How long have you been able to...” he pointed at his own eyes.

“We discovered that trick by accident, after Culver.” Was all Bruce would say on the matter.

“Dr. Banner, the food has arrived,” JARVIS interrupted.

“I'll get it. It's likely quite a bit of food?” Steve said, sliding off the bar stool.

“Thanks, Steve,” Bruce answered, turning to the cabinet that held plates. He grabbed out a short stack and set them on the counter, then grabbed flatware to leave in a pile. That done, he turned back to the kettle left simmering and refilled his tea. He turned off the burner and moved the kettle to a cold one to cool off.

Steve returned with an armful of plastic bags and deposited the load on the counter beneath the bar.

“JARVIS got either your standards, or the closest thing. The rest is for me, and maybe Tony, if the leftovers survive,” Bruce said, rummaging through the bags to find each container for the others first. When they were content, he found the container of egg drop soup and a bag of fried wonton strips. He retreated back to the corner near the fridge, mixing crushed wonton into the thick soup before inhaling it as fast as he could without burning his mouth.

The others ignored him and his skittish behavior in favor of eating their own meals, and mentally going over what Bruce had admitted to them.

Bruce ate faster than them, rebuilding energy reserves with large amounts of protein and carbs, moving through a variety of Asian dishes one normally only saw in their native countries, as well as Americanized dishes. He still tended to treat ready access to plenty of food as something bound to be snatched away, preferring to keep his back to a walled corner in order to see anyone that might make a move on him. He had to force himself to stop after a large carton of 'house special fried rice' and take a break. He allowed himself more tea, hoping to calm down, and relax a little.

The team had their own individual issues, and weren't interested in doing Bruce out of a meal, at any time. Clint ate almost as warily as he did, and Steve ate slowly, savoring the flavors of his spicy beef. Natasha ate her traditional Pho almost as slowly as Steve, mostly keeping an eye on the others and thinking over this surprise.

 

Tony suddenly banged into the house, clomping around in the suit as he made his way to the living room. “Dammit!” he cursed. The unexpected sounds made the quad of heroes jump.

Bruce put down the now empty container and went to the entryway dividing kitchen and living room. He saw Tony shedding the armor into a jumbled mess on the floor and became a little worried.

“What happened?” he asked, moving forward to check Tony over.

“That junction gave out, shorted the suit's flight as well as that pack of sensors you mentioned. I had to walk the last mile,” Tony said, grumbling as he dropped the armor's spaulders* to the floor with a clatter. He was covered in sweat and dust from the exertion of moving the 100 pound suit*. The hydraulics involved usually helped, but if the ankle junction Bruce had caught weeks ago had given out, it was possible that it was almost too much to get the suit to the house.

“I did mention it was bound to happen,” Bruce felt obligated to point out.

“Smart ass,” Tony grinned at his science partner. “Do I smell food?”

“You're in time for dinner. Ordered your favorites. Oh, and the team's here,” Bruce said, short, clipped sentences betraying how he felt about the invasion. He was glad Tony was back, as it would deflect some of the team's tight focus. There were personal reasons as well, but he stuffed those into the back of his mind to hash out later. He could hear Hulk chortling now and vaguely shook his head.

“Expected them. They came by the Tower first, so I sent 'em here,” Tony said, giving the armor one more scathing look before following Bruce into the kitchen. He dished himself some chicken and vegetables and leaned against the island to eat. Bruce frowned at the admission. It would have been immensely helpful if Tony had warned him first.

“What?” he eventually asked the three sitting at the bar and staring at him, or no, it was Bruce they were staring at, as the curly haired man walked behind him to get to the stove and refill the kettle. “Remind me to get you an electric kettle again,” he muttered around a mouthful of chicken.

“Nothing Tony. We were just discussing a new development,” Steve's words were diplomatic, but Bruce could tell he was confused and concerned. It wasn't every day that someone admitted to being certifiable*.

“Oh? What development? Are we changing the roster already?” Tony asked, curious as to what new thing had gotten the captain's back up. “The band was just settling into a groove.”

Bruce snorted a laugh into his tea, making Tony's cocky smile even out into a grin.

“No, but Bruce told us about his abilities with the Hulk. And we're just discussing the ramifications,” Steve said, frowning. He was thinking of how this would affect the team, if at all, and what it meant to Bruce's overall stability.

“What ramifications?” Tony asked, the grin dropping off his face, tightening, as he got angry and defensive. “Does it affect his control? Does it mean he'll transform easier? Does it?” Each question accompanied an alarming raise in volume.

Bruce reached over the corner of the island to touch Tony, “It's okay, Tony. It is rather shocking news.” Tony subsided with a grunt, and Bruce turned his head to look at the others. “Tell me what bothers you about this?”

Clint and Natasha shared a look, having one of those conversations without talking.

“Unless Steve has concerns as team leader, we're fine,” Clint said for the two of them. Natasha smiled, the information was useful to know, and she would be able to adjust to the Hulk that much faster. If they continued as a team, that was the key.

Steve sighed, and got up to pace. “I'm sorry, that didn't come out like I wanted. This is an unusual situation, you must admit.” He stopped to look at Bruce. “And it's got nothing to do with being from the 40s, or earlier really. Can't imaging this is all that common today.”

JARVIS interrupted, “It was considered schizophrenia in the 1920s, Captain Rogers, but it appears to have largely been misdiagnosis. Doctor Banner's case is certainly unusual, with his alter actually having his own body. There are no other cases like his.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve replied. “Okay.” He scratched his head. “I was surprised. The only thing I want to know is how we know the Hulk and you are present together. Maybe how to avoid startling you if at all possible.”

“Easy,” Tony answered in place of Bruce, “It's in the eyes.” As his focus remained on his food, it was hard to determine if he was serious or not.

“Depends,” Bruce said, “The eyes are the best way to tell, unless I start talking, or turning green, or getting bigger.” Bruce ticked off each point on one hand.

“All that?” Clint was surprised at the variety.

“It really depends on the threat level,” Bruce shrugged, “Like when you came out into the yard? We had to assess if our formerly safe place was in danger.”

“The other thing, Bruce, you're speaking in the third person,” Tony pointed out, using his fork for emphasis.

“True. That is a habit more noticeable now. We're comfortable here,” Bruce said, so straightforward and honest, it took Tony's breath away. He was giving away what amounted to the “keys to the kingdom” and that level of trust was something Tony hadn't been on the receiving end of, ever. The last time he trusted like that, well, the man was dead. “I am sorry Steve. There is truly no gentle way to spring this on people, and once one symptom is noticed, it's only a matter of time before the rest are added up. I can avoid the confusion and hopefully explain if there's a problem.”

Steve nodded, accepting what Bruce was saying.

“As for triggers? I, WE,” he emphasized, “don't like being startled, at all. And no, Tony's teasing has never startled me. The yard was a short moment, though there was no danger of a change.” He looked at his friends. That was a new concept to him. Before, it was just Tony. “I'll work on a list and make sure you all see it, but don't go around on eggshells or something just because I might be triggered. We've been working on this, and I can handle most situations.”

Each person nodded as he finished speaking, accepting that there would be some bumps in the road as they adjusted to this wealth of trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> * - Tulpa – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tulpa, and no, not an especially obscure religious/spiritual group, but the idea is.  
> * - In the MCU, Bruce was trying to recreate the Super Soldier Serum, instead of building a gamma bomb (for radiation survivability).  
> * - the Spaulder is a piece of armor (yes, real armor) that is the shoulder, and a bit of plating over the upper arm. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spaulder History geek!  
> * - I have no idea how much the suit weighs. I can't find any info, not even a guess with a quick Google search. So, 100# it is.  
> * - technically, he is.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of the DC trip. Did it go well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still don't own!
> 
> Warnings: None that come to mind. More of a filler chapter.  
> AN: BTW, stuff about the gov't is done as 'guess and by gosh'. Picking likely departments with a potential interest in the team wasn't easy, and I went by their Wikipedia descriptions. If it's wrong, that's on me.

Bruce was still feeling uncomfortable after admitting to the biggest secret to date regarding himself and the Hulk. 

Tony got himself seconds and leaned against the same bit of counter Bruce had leaned on. He was actually close enough that Bruce could easily touch him without moving. It reassured him, when, not even two months ago, it would have sent him running away from it all.

When Bruce moved to put his empty plate in the sink, Tony broke the silence.

“So, update on your adventure in DC?”

Steve nodded, finishing off his order of Lo Mein and placing the empty dish on the counter. Bruce quietly put it in the sink to rinse. “Right. We managed to discover a few things, about Ross and the current plans for the Initiative,” he said, shifting in his seat.

Natasha fished into one of Clint's vest pockets, withdrawing a USB stick and putting it on the counter before her. “Files are there, the last 10 years of orders for Ross, including Banner's project, and any prospectus regarding the Initiative. The current word on Ross is disavowal. General Cary wants him in custody and seems fine with SHIELD's help.”

Clint added, “Joint Chiefs are very interested in the Initiative. Heard that Sec Def is practically foaming at the mouth to try and wrest control of the team from SHIELD and the WSC.” He tapped the USB with a stubby, calloused forefinger. “There's a few files on here, detailing the JC's idea of how to 'steal' us.”

Tony took the USB and walked to the kitchen entrance where an odd art print hung on the wide arching entrance. The print, an out of place item in his otherwise high end house, hid a computer panel. He pulled the print aside and slotted the USB and called on JARVIS to download the files to both servers and compile the most interesting to read later.

“What about clearing Bruce?” he asked, looking back at Steve.

“We spoke to the Attorney General, Secretary of Homeland Defense and the Secretary of Health and Human Services,” Steve answered, smoothly rattling off titles he was largely unfamiliar with. Bruce nodded in the background, he realized these were likely the first wave of individuals who could turn things around for him. “Without interviewing Dr. Banner, they are hesitant to say one way or another. And I think there will be a few hurdles before the President even sees the reports I gave them. The Attorney General really wants a meeting.”

“That blowhard? Fine,” Tony said, aggrieved. It spoke of old history, and not all of it good.

“Tony, I'm not sure your involvement,” Steve began.

“JARVIS, call John Seacrest's office and find out when we can,” Tony talked right over him, until Bruce turned to look at him. The woebegone look on Bruce's face neatly cut Tony off.

“Do I need a lawyer?” he asked quietly, nervous fingers fiddling with a spoon.

“It's not a bad idea to have one. I can ask Pepper if we have any available to work on this. JARVIS?” Tony recovered and shifted gears. He'd do pretty much anything to make Bruce smile again. And wasn't that something to examine later?

“Request sent to Ms. Potts, sir. Shall I continue the query with the Attorney General?” the AI said.

Tony looked at Bruce, who was looking more nervous and scared every second, and it tightened a knot in his gut. “No, we'll start here and call him in a few days.”

Bruce visibly relaxed, the spoon clattering back into the sink. It made the knot in Tony unravel.

“All right, enough of this. Stark, you said you had rooms?” Clint broke the tense silence with an adequate distraction.

Tony snapped back to himself, and responded with his usual sarcasm. “I may even have one or two perches for you, Legolas.”

Clint grinned and hopped off the chair. “Lead on!” he challenged.

The others gathered around, bemused. Bruce stayed behind, putting away leftovers and giving the kitchen a once over.

Tin Man help. Fix everything. echoed in his head.

He doesn't need to steamroll over everyone. He replied.

A snort and Tin Man knows only one way. Bull in china shop.

Bruce laughed out loud, surprised by the image that came with that statement. The sound of which drifted up the stairs as the others made their way to the living area.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, pausing on the stairs.

“Everything is in order, sir. Dr. Banner is fine, and all of my sensors can detect nothing.”

“Tell me if it changes,” Tony finished leading the others to the top floor.

“Of course sir,” the AI replied, then fell silent.

 

The foursome reached the top floor, and the long hall to either side of the flight of hardwood stairs.

“The two at this end are for Bruce and me,” Tony indicated the right side of the hall. “There's a single room, then six on that side.” He waved at the rest of the hall. There was just the one door, painted a dark brown, in sight. “There aren't any furnishings. Didn't want to presume. JARVIS has remote access to the rooms, can handle passive scanning. But it's not the level like it is in the Tower. All visual record stops just inside the doors. If you want more or less than that, we can work on it. Remember, we're not relocating here, it's a 'home away from home', for downtime.”

Each of the others nodded, accepting the information, before heading down the empty and dark hall. Tony left them to it, going in the opposite direction to see how the new bathrooms were coming along.

The privacy also gave him time to think.

“JARVIS,” he called as soon as he entered what would be his room.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me what happened downstairs.” He considered it less an invasion of privacy and more an opportunity to keep the team safe. He knew Bruce would feel reassured that Tony kept an eye on him this way.

“According to the new parameters, it appears that Dr. Banner was conversing with the Hulk. The only recorded sign was in the doctor's eyes.”

“All right. Do we need to add to the sensor array?” Tony checked out the bathroom as he worked with JARVIS to keep Bruce safe and comfortable. The house was more a getaway than a new base of operations.

 

Downstairs, Bruce finished in the kitchen and headed for the lab. He had work to do if they were going to repair or upgrade the armor.

 

The others finished their self-guided tour and chose rooms for themselves. Natasha and Clint picked one large room at the front of the house, and Steve took the one closest to the stairs. They were excitedly discussing possibilities when they met back up with Tony.

Steve garnered everyone's attention. “All right, we obviously can't stay here past tonight. Are we all returning to the Tower?”

“We have to get back to SHIELD, reassignment,” Clint reported, eyes shadowed and face closed off when it was previously open and happy. Natasha had become her usual stoic self with this admission. They had yet to reach a decision regarding SHIELD, but they would have to, soon.

“You have positions with SI,” Tony leered, getting a glare from Tasha, making him grin. He had an idea they would likely jump from SHIELD, and knew job security would help. They nodded, accepting the offer. Steve had no particular loyalty for SHIELD, outside of being grateful they had recovered him from the Arctic. No one knew how Clint and Natasha would decide their future.

“I will either stay, or go back to the Tower. Depends on Bruce,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together.

“How is he doing?” Steve asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

“It's a daily thing. I think everything is a little better out here, but,” Tony shrugged

“The deposition went well?” Clint asked. He figured they'd be called next.

“Eh, it was dry and boring, as depositions usually are. Bruce sent in a report of his own. Maybe the police won't need to see him,” Tony said, looking at the floor.

“Well, that is the hope. If they need him?” Natasha asked quietly.

“We'll try and hold it in the Tower, just in case. No need to tempt fate,” Tony replied. It would have to be good enough for the authorities in charge of the case. Bruce wouldn't want to run the risk of Hulk making an appearance, and Tony knew it would be better to host any interviews involving Bruce where he was the most comfortable. That was either the Tower, or now, the mansion.

Steve and the others soon left to head back to the city. Tony meandered through the house, taking in the changes that had been done, and that which were still to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Still here, just now back from NaNo, and trying to play catch up with all the stories. I've started several more, but you won't see them for awhile. I've also gone and joined a trope-bingo, so I have that to work on before the deadline. Still on a roughly once a month posting cycle. If I write faster, great, I'll post, but nothing I know will speed that up.
> 
> Cya soon!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to the city. Sitwell pays them a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sandbox.
> 
> Wow, another milestone. This is one of those odd bridge/transition chapters, where stuff has to happen, but there's not a lot of action. Please bear with me, okay?  
>  **Trigger warnings: Onset of PTSD episode throughout, so if you are having one of those days, please, please, don't read this one.**

Tony and Bruce spent a few more days at the house, attempting to work on the armor and overseeing the last of the contract work. Tony had other plans for the house, but they would keep until the team had more time to sit and discuss them.

On the third day, Bruce was up well before Tony and he decided to take his time over breakfast, wanting a private moment to consider if he was ready to go back into the city.

He went out into the backyard that sported new lawn furniture and the shell of a large unfinished gazebo. Choosing a seat amongst the dark gray and pale blue of the plastic and metal furniture, Bruce put his back to the rising sun, closed his eyes, and dropped into a meditative state.

 

In the mindscape, he found the Hulk waiting at the cold firepit and sitting on the oversized tree stump he used for their talks. The barn like house that Bruce assumed Hulk stayed in was in better repair, but still showed signs of the previous attack on their persons.

“Banner not ready for city,” Hulk began with no preamble, as usual. The large green man sat sideways on his stump, emerald eyes watching Bruce's every move.

“No, I'm not.” Bruce sighed, sitting on the smaller stump. His gaze fell on the cool black pit in front of them, though he was not focusing on the sight before him.

“Be with Tin Man, he protect when Hulk can't,” Hulk suggested.

“Oh I'm sure Tony would love to have to babysit me,” Bruce grumped. But he thought about it. Would they do anything different than now? Perhaps coordinate their off site schedules more, but he couldn't think of anything else they would need to change.

“Tin Man help. He likes us,” Hulk grinned at that idea.

“We're an interesting puzzle for him,” Bruce dismissed.

Hulk snorted, “No, like Betty.”

“Oh really?” Bruce replied, disbelief plain to see.

“Who else as smart? Take care of us?” Hulk insisted, fists clenching.

“All right, we'll stay with Tony. But you have to promise me that you'll only respond to situations that really need you.”

“If Tony there, Hulk promise,” Hulk swore, grinning again. They needed each other, made each other happy. These two would get together. Hulk would see to it.

Bruce didn't catch the switch to Tony's proper name. “I guess that will do,” Bruce agreed. “Is there anything you want before I go?”

“Tin Man is up. Remind him of pool,” Hulk said, standing to go back into the little house. Bruce nodded, not even curious about the house after all this time. Their understanding came more from cooperation than Bruce's will to maintain control. It was a relative peace they'd managed to attain.

Bruce slowly came out of the meditation. His eyes blinked open as he breathed deeply a few times, oxygenating his blood in preparation to stand. He could smell Tony's aftershave, stronger on his right, coupled with the scent of black coffee.

“Morning,” he said quietly, in case Tony was distracted.

“Hey, back with me?” Tony's answer was prompt, causing Bruce to turn his head to see Tony curled up in another chair, hands clasped around one bent knee as he looked at Bruce.

“Yeah, everything's good,” Bruce said, looking carefully over his friend's face. Tony was tired, but at ease, telling Bruce he hadn't woken from a nightmare. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long. Thanks for starting coffee.” A steaming mug was on the low table next to Tony's chair.

“No problem. So,” Bruce stood and stretched, “Back to the Tower today?” He leaned over his hips, arms outstretched, aware of Tony's dark gaze following his every move. He couldn't swear to it, but there might have been a slightly sharp inhale whenever Bruce bent down to his toes and then arched back. It bore investigation. Bruce didn't want to be a rebound.

Tony watched, barely hiding his growing desire. So intent was he, that he nearly missed the question Bruce posed.

“The Tower? Yeah, we can go back today. Kids are restless being away from the lab. This one needs more work to be livable,” Tony unclasped his left hand in order to reach for the coffee mug and have a drink.

Bruce made a non committal noise and sat back down to wait for Tony. He leaned on one side, right elbow resting on the chair arm.

“So I was wondering,” Tony began, cradling the mug between his hands.

“About?” Bruce prompted, chin resting on the palm of his right hand, as he watched Tony try not to fidget. It was endearing and amusing, this super genius who had never had learned the value of stillness. His fingers had started tapping out a nonsense rhythm on the side of the mug, though a few times, Bruce thought he was hearing random strings of Morse code. The bits never amounted to more than a few letters randomly strung together, so Bruce dismissed the action as unimportant.

“Well,” Tony finally spoke, dark brown eyes focusing once more on Bruce. “I've got all these upgrades to the suit now. Could use some help getting it done.”

“Yeah?” Bruce queried, this seemed perfect for what he needed, “Just so happens my schedule is remarkably free these days.” Bruce's mouth twitched up in one corner, the only outward sign of his inner amusement at Tony's roundabout way of asking for help.

Tony unfolded his body from his seat and reached out his free hand to Bruce. “Good, let's get packed up.”

Bruce looked up at Tony, seeing the soft openness in the other man's face, and gave him a gentle smile in return, “All right, but breakfast first.” He took the proffered hand and stood, leading the way back to the house.

 

Hours later, they were unloading the bots from the van, and Tony sent them up the loading elevator with a stern command to go straight to the lab, no wandering. The two men finished clearing out the van, grabbed their duffel bags and went up Tony's private elevator that would take them to the Avengers' living quarters.

Bruce made to get off at his old floor, Tony just managing to stop him with a hand on his elbow.

“Moved you up a few floors, remember?” Tony's voice was quiet, and reserved, as if the man himself was somehow unsure about his original invitation.

Bruce's eyes widened slightly. He had forgotten Tony had insisted on the change a mere month ago, after that horrible nightmare. He stopped just inside the elevator and looked back at Tony. “Oh, okay. Wasn't sure that had happened,” was all he could say.

Tony tugged him back into the elevator, and said, “JARVIS, all the way up please.”

 

Tony showed Bruce his new floor, right under his own, emphasizing the security features he'd installed while in town for the deposition. Bruce was overwhelmed with the gift before him. He quietly padded through the place, looking at everything.

Not five minutes into the exploration, JARVIS called upon Tony.

“Sir? There's an Agent Sitwell requesting to speak with the team about the Incident. Shall I grant him access?” the AI's synthesized voice did not echo in the space so sparsely furnished. A few key pieces were in place, a couch, a few arm chairs, but otherwise it was blank, awaiting Bruce's input.

Tony looked at Bruce, to estimate whether he was up for this. Bruce did not meet Tony's gaze, instead he stared at one of the armchairs. It was a dove gray in color, and looked like leather from where he stood. He hadn't noticed his hands slowly opening and closing at his sides, betraying his nervousness.

“Bruce, do you want to talk to Sitwell? Or let us handle it?” Tony gently asked.

“Um, you'll be there, right?” Bruce asked, still staring at the chair.

“Right next to you, if that's what you want,” Tony assured his friend.

Bruce thought about it for a moment, then nodded once, sharply.

“All right JARVIS, send him up and call the others. We'll be along in a moment,” Tony informed the AI. He looked at Bruce, taking in the tension along his shoulders, the repetitive action with his hands.

“What do you need, Bruce?” he asked, moving a little so he stood in Bruce's line of sight.

“I...I don't know Tony. I'm cold though. Maybe, tea?”

“All right. We'll make sure there's tea for you. How about a sweater, or jacket?”

JARVIS took the hint in Tony's words, and sent a request to the others to set up beverages in the conference room.

Bruce simply nodded again, and stared off into the distance.

“Stay there then, I'll go get one. Or do you want to get a few selections from your tea collection?”

Bruce blinked, and gave Tony a half smile before going into the kitchen to find where his tea had been stored in this new place.

Someone had had the forethought to place the entire collection of bagged and loose teas in a cabinet close to the stove, along with several new teapots. His favorite, and most used, sat in a place of honor on a bronze trivet to the right of the stove, next to the kettle that graced a burner of the stove itself. Bruce thought perhaps Pepper had some influence on the issue, as he gathered a few bagged options into a little carry box and fetched down a mug from the next cabinet over. He strode out of the kitchen and went to the armchair he'd studied, to sit on the edge and wait for Tony.

Tony watched him shuffle into the kitchen and start rummaging for supplies before he quickly strode to the far side of the room to a door painted a light sand color. He touched the faux wood paneling of the jamb and the door slid soundlessly aside. He walked into the bedroom, ignoring the accoutrement and going straight to the closet.

On a built in set of wooden shelves, he found several sweaters, mostly in neutral colors. He grabbed a cardigan, cashmere and in a pale mint green. He briefly considered the green a bad choice, but shrugged it off, hoping Bruce would understand it was about supporting BOTH sides of him.

“JARVIS?” he called the AI while standing in the closet.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to monitor Bruce's vitals during this meeting. Let me know if he gets stressed,” Tony ordered.

“Of course, sir.”

Tony nodded and left the bedroom to find Bruce sitting uneasily on the edge of one of the armchairs in the middle of the room.

“Hey Bruce,” he called, just as the door glided shut behind him. Bruce startled a little, nearly dropping the mug and tea canister. “Whoa easy Big Guy. I'm sorry. Maybe we ought to rip out the carpet? That might be better. You can hear people coming and going.” Tony kept up chattering as he got closer. “Wonder what Cueball has for us.” Tony threw the sweater over his shoulder and started chivying Bruce up and out the door.

They rode the elevator down to the meeting floor, and found everyone waiting, already seated around the conference table.

“Well, hello doom and gloom,” Tony started, taking in their expressions while draping the sweater along the back of one chair before dropping into the one next to it. The leather chair bobbled a bit, but steadied easily when Tony slouched. “What's shaking, Kojak?” he threw in Sitwell's direction.

Bruce went to the sideboard and put his tea implements down to fix his first cup. A thermal carafe was already there, full of hot water. He dropped a bag in the mug, and pumped water in on top. Once the bag was steeping, he came back to the table, and sat beside Tony. Tony then reached up and dragged the sweater down to give to Bruce.

Bruce shot him a grateful look, holding tightly to his mug.

“Put the sweater on, Bruce,” Tony told him quietly.

“Oh, right,” Bruce was definitely not fully present. Natasha, Clint, and Steve shot concerned looks down the length of the table as Bruce let go of the mug to pull the sweater on. Bruce didn't comment on the color.

“All right, and is Thor on Earth?” Jasper asked the team.

“Not that we're aware of, Agent Sitwell,” Steve replied. They hadn't heard from Thor in some time, and they couldn't be sure when he'd be back on Earth.

“Then we'll move on. As you know, we've been working with Dr. Elizabeth Ross, and her associates since their kidnapping of Dr. Banner,” Jasper began. He had brought along and plugged a laptop into an available dock and had called up a few files. These were broadcast on a screen behind him so that the others could read over the information as he revealed it.

Bruce flinched at the mention of Betty's name, and clutched his mug a little harder. Tony watched him out of the corner of his eye, assessing his stability.

Jasper put up pictures of Ross and her accomplices. All five were in some disarray, as though they had given up on their hygiene while being held by SHIELD.

Bruce glanced quickly at the faces of his captors, his face going white when his eyes landed on Betty. With a muffled groan, he pulled his gaze off the display and stared into the depths of his mug.

“We believe Dr. Ross is under the influence of an unknown class of psychotropic drugs, leaving her incredibly susceptible to particular people. At this moment, a team of medical professionals and scientists are attempting to decode the drug, as well as deprogram her mind. It is slow going. The others, especially Mr. Leeds, have turned over evidence of their exact dealings with Dr. Ross, “ Jasper explained.

Bruce shuddered. He had known something was off about her, but the idea that someone had forced this on the woman bothered him. He remembered a comment she'd made about her father. Bruce sipped from his mug, dispelling the memory as a false one.

Tony kept an eye on Bruce as Sitwell spoke. The man was clearly uncomfortable as the agent described what SHIELD was doing to the group responsible for hurting Bruce. He glanced at the rest of the team, noting the scowl on Rogers' face, and the contemplative looks from the Spy Twins. Natasha's expression was oddly open for her, given what Tony knew of her personality. He pulled out his phone, and tapped a query to JARVIS to send him her file. He also checked on the record his AI was keeping on Bruce's vitals, and found the pulse and heart rate elevated, but still within safe, “non-Hulk” parameters. He half listened as Jasper rambled on about SHIELD's plans for the group.

Natasha realized early on in Sitwell's report just what SHIELD would end up doing to Elizabeth Ross. SHIELD's ability to deprogram an individual was rumored to be unparalleled. She'd heard, in the years since she herself had gone through the crucible of getting her head picked over, that other agencies used SHIELD for bringing back brainwashed assets. At least, those that were deemed worthy.

Clint had gone through a shortened version of only a few of the evaluations right after the invasion. As he'd not been under Loki's control for long, the decision had been made to not subject him to the entire gamut of testing.

Both agents were only too aware of what Dr. Ross was going through.

Steve was out of his depth. He wasn't sure what 'deprogramming' would do to this woman, but just by watching the faces of his teammates, he knew it wasn't necessarily good or easy to deal with. His gaze fell on Bruce as Sitwell described the next moves. The man was clearly uncomfortable, and Steve could see that he flinched at each mention of Dr. Ross' name. His eyes next moved to Tony, who alternated his attention between his phone, and Bruce.

Sitwell remained largely unconcerned about the emotional state of the room as he went over the information he'd brought with him. He explained the deprogramming, thought not in any detail. Each time SHIELD was called upon to deprogram an agent, the techniques were always the same, but often shuffled around for better results. Jasper wasn't unaware of the prior relationship between Dr. Banner and Dr. Ross, though the current situation had colored his association of the knowledge. He easily wrapped up his portion of the meeting, and then opened the floor to discussion from the team.

Bruce was the first to break the silence after Jasper stopped speaking, “This mental recalibration, what are the long term effects?” He never looked at Sitwell directly, keeping his head bowed as he nervously twirled the mug between his hands.

Tony frowned from beside him. It was like the last couple of months were nothing, as Bruce appeared to retreat into the shell hardened after so many years on the run. Tony hated the idea, but could do nothing here. He did pry the now cold mug from Bruce and replaced it with a bottle of water while fresh hot water was retrieved.

Natasha chose to answer, her voice smooth and noninflected. “With luck, she'll be back to her normal state of mind or base personality. I doubt she's been under the influence of these drugs for long...” she trailed off, looking for confirmation from Sitwell.

“As we don't know more than the chemical composition of this drug, it's hard to say. We are unsure how long she's been taking the drug, nor of the overall cumulative effect its had on her mind and personality. Dr. Banner, what do you want us to do?” Jasper explained calmly.

Bruce flinched again, the water bottle now in his hands being squeezed like a stress toy.

Tony stepped in at that moment, “I think helping Dr. Ross recover should be the priority. The others involved are sound of mind and in otherwise perfect health?” If anyone had cared at that moment, they'd notice the appearance of the shrewd business man persona that Tony rarely used.

Jasper squinted at Tony, but agreed they were indeed in good health.

“Good. They can be charged with kidnapping and aggravated assault,” Tony sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table.

“SHIELD is not prepared for such an undertaking,” Jasper began.

“Oh, that's fine, Elmer, just turn those six over to the NYPD, and we'll take it from there,” Tony's smile was unpleasant.

The water bottle in Bruce's hands finally had enough of the abuse, and exploded. The small wave of water flooded across the table and dripped off the near side. Tony managed to avoid a soaking by pushing away from the table. His hands came off the wood damp.

Bruce muttered a soft apology as he too pushed away from the table. Except he stood and walked out of the meeting. Steve rose to go after him but Tony stopped him.

“I'll do this, Cap. Sitwell, get those goons transferred to the nearest precinct,” Tony said coldly as he left his seat to follow his friend.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this one, it's another transitional chapter. Some bits about the medical team, and a surprise at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still don't own, more's the pity. Would mean I could be on set with our favorite bunch of superhero actors!
> 
> Warnings: None, though there's some shenanigans by Team JARVIS.

Tony caught up with Bruce near the elevator. “Hey, you all right?” he asked Bruce, who was practically hunched over and drawn in on himself.

Bruce jerked his head in uneasy agreement. “I just need to get back to work. I'll see you in the lab?” he countered.

“Sure buddy, no problem. I'll be down as soon as Cueball,” the epithet carried a bit more venom this time, “is done with us. I'll bring some food with me?” Tony offered. He wasn't usually so gentle, but knew Bruce could stand some TLC after everything. It also worked in his favor, to get closer emotionally.

“That sounds fine, Tony.” And Bruce ducked into the elevator, shooting Tony a brief look that the engineer interpreted as pained, with a large hint of longing.

Once the door closed and the car moved off the floor, Tony addressed his AI. “Keep monitoring him, J. We don't need a green incident.”

“Of course sir. May I suggest ordering from Level 8? He has a variety of favorites,” JARVIS suggested.

“Do that J. Hopefully we'll be done soon,” Tony said, frowning as he turned back to the meeting room. He wondered how he could speed things up.

 

&&&

Time passed, as it does. Clint, Natasha, and Steve teamed up to work on the security upgrades to the Tower, especially the Avengers only areas designated by Tony. He worked on the upgrades to the rest of the building, and with Pepper, ferreting out the rest of the disenfranchised employees. 

Bruce spent most of his time working out the upgrades to the armor, and working on vetting and hiring a complete medical team. With JARVIS' help, Bruce went through dozens of applicants, all eager for a chance to work with actual superheroes. They checked backgrounds as thoroughly as only the AI could, hacking his way through privacy measures and firewalls with ease. Most were eliminated due to incompatibility in handling 'the weird' that was inherent in the nature of superheroics, as well as those who were inclined towards bragging about their patients when they were famous individuals.

Kent Ashwhite was the first hired, honoring the offer Tony made two months previously to bring him out of SHIELD's grasp in the wake of the disaster surrounding Bruce's rescue. The in person interview was less about seeing if Ashwhite could handle the oddities of the heroes, and more about how he wanted to set up the medical wing.

“Dr. Ashwhite,” Bruce welcomed the young man as he stepped off the elevator.

“Ah, thank you Dr. Banner, but not yet,” Ashwhite smiled, taking Bruce's offered hand. “Still need some certifications,” he demurred. Those certs were coming in, but he preferred not to take the honor until they had.

“Well, you'll still be lead here in our clinic. Shall we take a look?” Bruce indicated the hall before them. He'd decided to meet Kent on the floor that Tony had chosen to house the medical facilities. It wasn't fully furnished but had just enough supplies that Bruce was able to manage the few times Clint, Natasha, and Steve had needed something more than a bandaid after full contact sparring. They'd had no call outs as a team thus far, and hadn't needed more than the occasional ice pack and taped ankle or wrist.

They walked down the wide hall, discussing potential usage for each room they passed. In a temporary office, Kent stood at the floor to ceiling windows.

“It's a fantastic location, Bruce, with lots of potential. Though I'd like to discuss the possibility of a clinic for the rest of the building?” he said, gazing down to the street below.

Bruce sat in a folding chair beside a portable banquet table scattered with first aid detritus from just that morning. “I don't see a problem with that. If you worked solely on us, you'd be bored,” Bruce answered with a laugh. Sobering, he gave the idea more thought. “How about a free clinic?” he suggested.

“Possible. It will depend on the support staff we hire. Will Mr. Stark be willing to install one here? I can only assume you'd want to keep the public out of the team areas, including...no especially here,” Kent said, turning back to Bruce to check on the reception of the idea.

“I'll talk with Tony. If we can't put one in the Tower, I'm sure we can lease space nearby. What else?” Bruce agreed.

“Better to go over the top than discover you need something during a crisis,” Kent said, sitting down in the other folding chair.

Bruce pulled out a tablet and stylus, prepared to take notes on Kent's needs.

Their meeting went another hour before JARVIS interrupted emitting a discreet bleep.. “My apologies, Dr. Banner. Mr. Stark was wondering if you were coming to the workshop this afternoon,” the AI said.

“Very diplomatic, J,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “Well Kent?” He looked at the medic.

“I'm in,” Kent was convinced this was the best option for his career.

“Great. JARVIS, tell Tony 20 min. I need to email Pepper about paperwork.” At Ashwhite's confused look, he explained, “She handles all Avengers related paperwork, for now. We're hoping to find someone else, however the background checks required are daunting to most who view it as a glorified secretarial position. Others see it as political capital.”

“Makes sense, the team is very high profile, and needs someone who can handle that, and still maintain your privacy,” Kent responded knowingly. He gave it some thought, and suggested, “There might be someone from SHIELD I can talk to?”

Bruce's previously open expression closed off at the idea. “The problem is one of trustworthiness. Neither Tony nor I have a lot of faith in SHIELD as an organization. You've proved yourself already,” Bruce smiled grimly, “But others?” He shook his head.

“Understood,” Kent answered, deflated for the moment.

“Sirs, perhaps I can be of assistance?” JARVIS inserted himself into the conversation.

“Go ahead, JARVIS,” Bruce prompted, curious.

“I believe I may be able to run background checks on prospective hires from SHIELD, and perhaps Agents Romanov and Barton can weigh in on trustworthiness. Mr. Stark left the maintenance of system back doors open ot me, and they are still open.” JARVIS explained. Bruce considered, and agreed to the proposal. Ashwhite hummed, also considering. It sounded like a solid plan.

“Then we'll get started with that. Mr. Ashwhite, I look forward to your input,” JARVIS said, as the two men left the meeting room. As they walked back to the elevator, Bruce had one more offer.

“It'll take a couple of weeks to get the floor set up, so I want to offer to pull together the team's medical records. Take that off your plate while you find your team.”

“That helps, thank you Bruce,” Ashwhite shook his hand in farewell, and they parted ways.

 

A few hours later, Bruce was helping Tony rearrange wiring and hydraulic systems in the wire frame mock-ups. Tony was yawning, and rubbing his eyes as the work carried on.

“Hey,” Bruce said, reaching over to nudge Tony in the shoulder.

“Huh?” Tony responded, not focused at all. He fumbled a connection, metal springs and a few wires skittering across the tabletop. He had to stop to blink dully at the mess in front of him.

Bruce huffed a tiny sound that might have been a laugh. “Go take a nap. How long have you been up, anyway?” He gently pushed Tony away from the steel table scattered with the detritus of many jobs. Tony stumbled, forcing Bruce to leap to his side to catch him before he fell. “JARVIS?” Bruce asked the AI, while attempting to shuffle the two of them across the concrete expanse of the shop floor. Fortunately, they were still at the mock-up stage of reworking the armor, and none of its pieces were strewn across the path he took to the small alcove that held a deep set couch.

“His blood sugar is a little lower than normal, and it has been 40 hours since he last tried to sleep,” JARVIS said in response.

“Dummy, bring me a bottle of juice, please,” Bruce called, stirring the bots to life. They'd been relegated to their docking stations when You couldn't keep from bumping Tony's elbow during a bit of fine tuning that had resulted in a test firing of the new boot propulsion system before they were ready. Fortunately, Tony's temper was the only thing that exploded.

Bruce manhandled Tony to the couch, Tony leaning heavily on him, mumbling about finishing the work they'd started. Bruce had to keep forcing Tony to stay seated, when Dummy rolled up, chirping in quiet distress. A bottle of apple juice was trapped in his pincer as he came to a stop at Bruce's side as he squatted in front of Tony.

“Tony, just sit still for a minute. Here,” Bruce pushed Tony down into the thick cushions once more, then he managed to take the juice from Dummy, twisting the cap off as he tried to give it to Tony.

“Not thirsty,” Tony repeatedly insisted, trying to push Bruce's hand away.

“Humor me, drink,” Bruce said, pushing back. Tony sulkily grumped and took the bottle to slug the liquid down. He barely got the lip of the bottle to his mouth before he'd tipped it sideways, some of the amber colored juice running down his chin. He finally got the bottle emptied, and in a fit of pique, threw it across the room, vaguely aiming for a trash receptacle and earning a frown from Bruce. 

Tony whined a little more as Bruce took his vitals, “We weren't done yet!”

Bruce thought he sounded all of 6 years old and denied dessert. “It's fine, Tony. It will keep while you get some rest. C'mon, lay down,” he said, nudging Tony into a supine position. You brought over a blanket, and held it up for Bruce's attention. “Thank you,” he said, taking the fabric from the robot to spread over Tony. “Why aren't you sleeping, Tony? What's going on?” Bruce murmured as the other man grumpily settled, features relaxing out of the stony frown as sleep finally claimed him. Bruce tried to get up and go back to the work bench, only to discover Tony had clamped a hand around one of his knees. Sighing, he realized Tony would have to wake enough to shift to let Bruce settle more comfortably on couch. He reached over to grasp his friend around the shoulders and lifted enough to pivot himself under Tony's head. The other man grumbled, but shifted to accommodate his new pillow.

“JARVIS, please bring the wire frame over here. Looks like I'm not going to be able to leave any time soon,” Bruce asked the AI as he settled down.

“Yes sir,” JARVIS replied, suiting actions to words, and the blue 3D modeling system flickered to life in front of Bruce, at a smaller scale than above the main work table.

“Dim the lights please, JARVIS, no need to disturb Tony. Tell me though, how has he been sleeping?” Bruce requested, looking over the armor specs to continue making the necessary changes.

“Mr. Stark's sleep patterns have been very disturbed, and very brief. Often he rests for less than 2 hours at a time. His ability to focus has diminished more than 50% since your return from the Mansion. I believe we're fortunate that he hasn't tried to work on any of the more volatile projects he has waiting for him,” JARVIS explained, the tones Bruce associated with worry and exasperation prominent in his digital voice print.

“Dammit Tony,” Bruce grumbled quietly, daring to put a hand on his shoulder. Tony shifted a little, but did not wake. Bruce gently rubbed his fingers along Tony's upper arm, eliciting a quiet sigh, and half hearted, almost snuggle.

“If I may be bold sir, your sleep patterns have averaged about the same as Mr. Stark's,” JARVIS added.

Bruce huffed a laugh, caught out. “You're right, J. The best sleep we both seem to have gotten occurred at the mansion. But, how do you convince two touch starved, but physically and emotionally disconnected individuals to reach past their barriers and take advantage of the support?” he admitted, still ghosting his fingers along Tony's arm. The action raised gooseflesh, but didn't disturb Tony in any way. A jaw cracking yawn caught Bruce by surprise. “Well, guess a nap will do me good. J, try to let Tony sleep as long as he can, all right?” Bruce said, pulling his glass off and settling deeper into the corner of the couch. He was prepared for the inevitable neck contortion, and was pleasantly surprised when one of the bots rolled back up, a pillow clutched in its claw.

“Thank you,” Bruce murmured sleepily, taking the thick square of gray fabric and foam and stuffing it under his head.

Once comfortable, he quickly drifted off to sleep. The wire frame blinked out, work saved. Lights throughout the workshop dimmed or went out entirely, plunging the room into a state of near total darkness.

“Gentlemen, we need to make sure our creator and his partner are at their best. Both of you go move Dr. Banner's things,” JARVIS instructed the bots. JARVIS rarely made such bold moves, but in the interest of Tony's health, the AI would move mountains. Hulk heard everything, briefly surfacing to check for threats as he did whenever Bruce was attempting to sleep some place different. It had kept them safe more than once. He voiced a grunt in appreciation, that the invisible voice was also trying to meddle to everyone's benefit.

This action confused both men when they finally made their way to their rooms to try for more sleep many hours later. Bruce's door refused to open to his known keycodes, and JARVIS was apologetic, but unmoved about the situation. He did strongly suggest joining Sir upstairs in the penthouse, as Dr Banner would be most welcome, but the first few times, Bruce ended up turning back around and returning to the lab. If JARVIS had known he'd meet such a stubborn man, he'd have planned accordingly. Hulk was no help. He had no reason to take over and could only leave suggestions on the backdrop of Bruce's subconscious. That didn't work fast, or well with the physicist.

Tony had been vociferous at first, trying to deny that he needed any kind of help, until JARVIS 'threw down' the gauntlet of incontrovertible evidence of his vitals between the time he split up with Pepper, when he'd been at the Mansion, and the present situation. Tony folded like a house of cards in the face of his AI's presentation.

Both men dealt with the situation as only they could, by ignoring their burgeoning feelings while getting on with the 'proven science of sleeping in the same bed'. JARVIS would have rolled his eyes, had he had any. Hulk huffed and grumbled from within the mindscape, disappointed in his puny half.

 

A week later, Bruce worked alongside JARVIS to cobble together medical files on each team member. JARVIS electronically ripped any pertinent files from SHIELD's servers, while Bruce read everything and prepared a summary for Kent Ashwhite. When they discovered the records of Clint's hearing loss, Bruce stopped, reading the file in depth instead of skimming.

He and JARVIS debated asking Clint to come in, except the archer was entirely too reticent about exposing anything like weakness. Bruce therefore felt it was only prudent to flag the information to make sure Ashwhite saw it. He also considered bringing Tony in for a check up, since the man had stubbornly refused any kind of medical help. He was understandably reluctant about anyone handling the arc reactor and its accompanying issues, but Bruce felt better with trying to get Tony to sit for a physical. His file was also marked as high priority for the incoming medical team.

“Dr. Banner?” JARVIS paused his download, interrupting Bruce's notetaking.

“Yes, JARVIS,” Bruce answered, his pen coming to a stop on the notebook.

“I have discovered a file that needs your immediate attention,” the smooth, inflectionless British voice did nothing to alleviate the sudden jackhammering of Bruce's heart. That particular turn of phrase alerted the Hulk, previously quiescent in the mindscape. The screen before Bruce was wiped, a new file spinning open in place of the information on Tony. Bruce shifted uneasily in his chair, the pen beginning to tap against the half used notebook.

As the document came into focus, Bruce quickly scanned the contents, concern building for the yet unknown patient. “JARVIS, is that?” he asked, voice shaking, pen creaking as his fingers bent the hollow tube of plastic.

“I am afraid so, sir.”

“Call the team.”

“At once, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And we're finally matching back up with one of the older stories in my set. At this point, and until the next chapter of VC, go read the events of Blackhawk Retirement found here: (link)
> 
> Also, some items of that story need to be 'retconned' – I established in Blackhawk that Bruce and Tony were already in a relationship, they obviously aren't (though teetering on the edge). Disregard that from Blackhawk. Vital Communication remains the absolute canon of this series.
> 
> In regards to Clint's hearing loss. I barely touched on it in Blackhawk Retirement, and that was a failing on my part. I intend to possibly redo that story, and work on it more, but I'm not sure when that's going to happen. Any comments, concerns, or problems can be directed to the usual places. (see profile for where to find me)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are explored, discussions of proper handling of the mentally distressed are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Same song, 85th verse (or something...)  
> Warnings: Discussion of triggers, their validity (even to the triggered), and their consequences. Romance in the air!  
> AN: We have finally caught back up to Blackhawk Retirement, this chapter coincides with chapter 4 of that story. BTW, it took this long to make sure I had the timeline right! That was a headache and a half (and I know from headaches). Enjoy!

The team was still reeling a week later with the fallout surrounding Phil, Director Fury, and the whole misbegotten event. Maria Hill called Phil, explaining that aside from the initial lie, she'd had no idea he'd truly survived, if only because of the extent of the injuries.

Hat in hand, Jasper Sitwell had come calling one afternoon, to express his sorrow that he'd even inadvertently been a part of the cover up. While he didn't mind playing the patsy, Jasper vastly preferred warning of what he might stumble into. Having Clint and Natasha angry at him was not something he thought he could survive.

With his lions to protect him solely on the powers of their glares, Phil laughed and dismissed the issue. Tasha and Clint relaxed, but only in so far as one of them always remained in the room, with eyes on Jasper's every move. It would unnerve lesser people, and served to remind the agent just how close SHIELD had come to potential obliteration, simply because these two assassins, and the rest of their team, were upset over Phil and his perceived loss.

Jasper had also brought the trio much anticipated information on the girl that had tried to complete the job of ending Phil's life. Turned out, the girl was a sleeper agent, handled by the World Security Council to 'deal with potential rogue elements' in the groups they oversaw. As distasteful as it was, the agents knew that final solutions were often the only answer they would get in some situations. Clint, Tasha, and Phil knew intimately about finding other options.

Nominally forgiven, Jasper left the trio when it was time for Phil's daily therapy. While the nannites had repaired the physical damage, they could not rebuild the muscle strength he needed to be a field agent. Today was Tasha's day to accompany him, as Clint had his own therapy to attend to in a short time.

Phil and Natasha ran into Bruce in the elevator.

"Doc," Natasha offered in greeting with a small smile when the doors opened.

"Doctor Banner," Phil added as the pair got on the car at their floor.

"Bruce, please, both of you. How are you?" Bruce smiled warmly from the back of the elevator. He carried a thick folder under one arm, and a steaming mug of tea in the opposite hand.  
"Phil, then," the agent said, with a smile of his own. "Doing all right for someone headed to their thrice weekly torture session." The elevator moved once everyone was safely inside.

The flinch was minute, but there. The mug in Bruce's hand wobbling just enough to slosh liquid over one edge of the hand thrown, blue and gray pottery. Natasha immediately stiffened beside Phil, who quickly realized what he'd alluded to.

"My God, I'm sorry Bruce!" he hastened to explain, a slight flush overtaking his face, eyes going wide in his embarrassment.

"It's all right Phil. Yes it bothers me, but we can't just creep around the issue," Bruce allowed with a deep shrug, and almost negligent sip of his tea. He didn't fool either agent.

"No, that's not necessarily how it works, Bruce," Natasha said, relaxing her stance now that the hazard of a 'green incident' was immediately past. "You asked us to respect the things that could trigger the Hulk. It only makes sense to add in this recent event, even if it doesn't call upon his attention."

Phil readily agreed, just as the elevator came to a stop at the first of the lab floors.

"All right. Remember we do need to have that team meeting if Phil is up to it," Bruce reminded Natasha as he disembarked.

She nodded as the doors closed behind him.

"Meeting?" Phil asked pointedly once the elevator started moving again.

"Confab to get you up to speed on the other things you missed," Natasha didn't elaborate. She rarely needed to as her partners were in singular tune with her. Phil accepted the lack of details as he got his mind centered for the therapy he was going to endure.

He thought over the recent conversation, and while it sometimes felt like he was enduring more than he had to, the use of a triggering word in front of a survivor was in bad taste. He'd been specifically warned about what had occurred nearly three months ago, and still had nearly caused an incident. He sighed, Natasha glancing at him briefly to confirm he was okay, before they went into the medical wing's gym. Phil just shook his head and got to work. There was no easy answer for what happened, he just had to be more aware from then on.

At one point over the course of the next hour, Natasha asked, "Do you think Clint will take Stark and the Doc up on the nannite treatment?" She had moved closer to where Phil worked on a weight machine set up for stretching his arms and shoulders.

"Maybe. He's still waiting on my recovery," Phil allowed, pausing for a moment to reach out and touch Tasha briefly on the cheek. She smiled, and leaned into the touch before gently pushing him to get back to work. Phil returned the smile and nodded, focusing on his workout again.

 

The team gathered for dinner that night and it was a grand, jovial affair with Thor still present. When pressed for why he'd not returned to Asgard, he cited an agreement made with his father. He explained that the agreement allowed Thor to spend about half his time on Asgard, and half his time on Midgard, recording what had changed in the intervening thousand or so years since the last time Asgardians had interacted with human kind.

This required him to travel, and Tony had gifted him with a jet to help make transitions through nations easier than his normal mode of transportation. The entourage that now accompanied him had originally been a mix of PR people from Stark Industries, and security personnel from SHIELD. With the Avengers having broken away from SHIELD, Pepper had turned around and changed the entourage completely to SI employees, without having to argue the benefit as Maria Hill had to get Thor to accept them in the first place. They maintained that the security forces were trained to spot all manner of Earth dangers, and the PR people were adroitly skilled in managing high profile individuals who were keen on remaining accessible to all.

Over grilled salmon steaks, Thor regaled the team of exploits he had in other realms, glossing over the fighting in deference to Pepper, and focusing on the feasts and pranks between his friends and describing the palaces and villages.

Steve shared lighter moments of his time with the Commandos, much to Phil's delight. And he'd shared that he had been working on the plan to get Bruce's pardon in between press junkets he attended for the continuing rebuild of New York. While Steve hated being a show pony, he admitted that aside from Tony, he was the best person for this job. And unlike Tony, wouldn't deliberately or inadvertently piss off the press corps, unless given a sufficient reason. So far, the press had been very well behaved, somehow sensing that Steve would not appreciate any deviation from discussing anything other than the reconstruction.

After dinner, Tony offered drinks in the lounge, where the team moved for comfort, to continue discussing how things had changed in the last 3 months since getting Phil back, and over all how the team had been dealing since the battle with the Chitauri.

Phil thought his team had done well for themselves in the intervening months, even with the trials of Bruce's kidnapping and the potential military espionage that Tony was still dealing with.

"This is all well and good, but how are we going to move forward?" Steve asked, spinning the bottle of craft beer in his hand. They had all spent time dissecting the decision to cut ties with SHIELD, as they realized that moment had come in a heightened emotional phase for the team. Tony was adamant about finalizing the action, having an awakened sense of betrayal that he was having significant issues with.

"What do you mean, Steve?" Natasha asked for clarification, one slim eyebrow arched in query. She held the narrow stem of a martini glass in her left hand, while her right carded through Clint's short hair. The archer relaxed beside her, head in her lap.

"How will we figure out where we're needed? Seems like listening to the police band radio is a waste of time. Plus, what if we're needed on an international level?" he threw out, these questions were ones he'd been unable to find answers for, in the short time since Phil had been back.

Phil thought he had a point, and said so. "We can let SHIELD inform us of hot spots," he suggested in turn, from Natasha's side on the leather couch.

"You'd still trust them after?" Tony stated from his seat in front of the bar, frowning into his scotch. It was his fifth since dinner started, and Bruce and Pepper shared concerned glances with each other. Bruce was set to install himself as bartender if Tony tried to make another, and hopefully stop him.

"All of SHIELD is not to blame for Fury's decision. I believe it was a misguided attempt to protect both me, and the rest of you," Phil explained, pausing to swallow some iced tea. He still wasn't allowed alcohol.

"And you know this how?" Tony growled. Bruce leaned over from his corner of another couch and touched him on the arm, briefly distracting him. Natasha caught the gentle maneuver, and briefly touched Clint's shoulder to get his attention. When they looked at each other, they confirmed with simple facial movements that this was a new thing for them.

"Many years of friendship," Phil allowed. "Look, Nick Fury is many things, but a heartless bastard he's not. In all the years I've worked under him, the idea that any agent is expendable is the last thing from his mind."

"He's right," Clint said with a negligent shrug as he sat up from Natasha's lap. "And it is SHIELD's job to figure out when cannons are needed to swat the flies," he waved one hand lazily at the gathered heroes. "Or if just a regular bug zapper will work."

"Weird analogy, but Clint has a point. SHIELD, like the CIA and FBI, have trained analysts who know what to look for when it comes to spotting trouble," Phil explained, "This is not something we want to contract out from Stark Industries. The headaches from the government are not worth it." 

Pepper absently nodded from the armchair she'd claimed. She had enough to deal with, as holdovers from when SI still made weapons.

Tony lifted his nearly empty glass in salute, conceding the point, "Okay, point taken. No need to drum up more aggravation, much less waste time in front of useless bureaucratic committees." 

Bruce wasn't sure working with SHIELD again was the right answer, no matter if it was just a small portion, or the whole organization. "Surely JARVIS is capable of modeling trends in a similar fashion?" he offered, hesitating. He was uncomfortable with the idea of an overwatch group for the team.

"Fuck yes," Tony exclaimed, nearly coming out of his chair, "With half his processing power tied behind his figurative back." He practically slammed his glass to the bar top.

Bruce sighed, a barely audible sound, before standing up from the couch. "I need some tea," he said, stepping over the corner of the narrow coffee table to extract himself from the huddle. He went to the back of the bar, knowing Tony had stocked it with a few of his favorites, and an electric kettle. "Anyone else?" he asked over his shoulder. Thor, Phil and Clint asked for refills. Bruce played bartender, letting the conversation wash over him. At least, until he heard his name.

"Steve, you said there was a good chance for a pardon for Bruce?" Phil changed the thread of conversation again. They wouldn't come to an agreement about SHIELD in one night. However, he was already considering options.

Bruce brought over the drinks, and tried to retreat to the bar, but Tony reached out and captured his left hand, and looked up into his face. Bruce tried not to get lost in those brown eyes, but sometimes, it felt like he was drowning. And he was sure he didn't want to be saved.

Tony broke the moment by rising and offering to get his tea once the kettle 'popped'. "You need to pay attention to this," he said in an undertone, tugging on the man's hand to get Bruce to sit. Reluctantly, Bruce traded places, allowing Tony to bring back a perfectly brewed mug of green tea. Bruce took the first sip, blowing out a tense breath as he did so.

"You've learned," he said, pleased that Tony cared enough to bother.

"I can be taught," Tony replied, stoic for a moment. "By the right teacher," he then leered, ruining the moment. Bruce huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Steve had jumped up out of his seat, going to the kitchen where dessert waited on delivery to the others. When he returned, he bore a tray piled up with cookies in hand to pass around, and answered Phil's question. "Yes, there's a very good chance. Better if we can bring Ross in." He started the tray with Thor, then sat back down in the armchair he'd been occupying.

"That will be hard, if not impossible, if anyone in the Army is still protecting him," Bruce muttered into his mug. Feeling too stressed with the new path the discussion had taken, he hadn't taken any cookies. He hadn't even realized he'd begun to tremble.

Tony finished the one morsel he had snatched from the plate, and moved his now empty hand to Bruce's knee, partially to support him, and partially to keep him in the room. He'd noticed the faint trembling, and was silently angry at the fear that still lingered within Bruce about this bastard, Ross. 

"Are Bruce's chances better or worse with Ross?", Pepper asked, a slight frown on her face. She was contemplating legal recourse that she might have Stark Industries lawyers to bring to bear.

"Well, as I said, better if we can find him. Ross's crusade to capture Bruce and essentially, I'm sorry Bruce," the scientist barely heard Steve, who looked at Tony, who squeezed Bruce's knee in silent support. Steve continued, "Essentially torture him trying to figure out a way to reproduce the Hulk."

"Tried, can't do it," Bruce whispered. He'd finally put down the mug, as now the shakes were very visible in his hands. Bruce tried flexing them in an attempt to stop it.

"I have been assured that no one wants Ross as a loose cannon anymore," Steve responded earnestly. It was important to him that this man be brought to justice. Steve thought that while bending the rules could be of overall benefit, a loose cannon was no good to any piece of the military, as Steve knew well.

"That could be a project for us," Clint interjected, waving a hand to indicate himself, Nat, and Phil. "The security upgrades for the Tower are finished, and we tracked down the visitors from months ago. They took nothing, and all the contacted employees have been fired as per their contracts."

Tony instantly relaxed with that news. Neither he nor JARVIS had discovered anything missing, but it was nice to have independent corroboration. "Excellent news," he breathed, boneless beside a still quivering Bruce. He slumped a little, leaning into the arm of the couch.

"We'll work on finding Ross starting first thing tomorrow morning," Phil supplied, the promise of delivery heavy in his words. Bruce relaxed minutely, accepting that the three former agents would scour the world for his most hated tormentor. The team went on to explain to Thor about the process of amnesty in the United States.

As they wound down for the night, Bruce chose to begin gathering up the empty bottles to throw out, looking for a bit of distraction from the information revealed this night.

Tony stopped him with a hand on his wrist, "You joining me tonight?" 

That single comment outed them both.

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go, but it was done.

"What's this?" Clint asked, eyes sparkling. He sat up in frank excitement, like a dog with a new toy. If he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging for all he was worth.

Tony gently squeezed Bruce's wrist in silent apology. Bruce opened his eyes and looked at Tony, giving him a shrug. It would not have remained a secret for too much longer.

"What about it Barton?" Tony grumbled good naturally, though his hackles were up regardless. Bruce moved off to toss the bottles he was holding, hoping he could keep from being drawn into the conversation.

"Since when have you two shacked up like lovebirds?" the archer said, with a leer and wiggle of his eyebrows. Natasha reached over and slapped his shoulder. He gave her a look as though to say “What?” with all the nonchalance he could muster. She could only shake her head in vague bemusement.

"Shacked up?" Thor asked curiously from his spot by the windows. Steve quietly answered him and they waited for the non-answer Tony was sure to give. 

With no small amount of surprise in himself, Bruce came back from the kitchen, and calmly replied, "For a couple of weeks, since we got back from the house." 

"Then it is a moment to celebrate, correct?" Thor queried, a beatific smile breaking his face nearly in two.

"Not quite, Thor," Bruce didn't want to crush his ebullience, but better to explain the whole truth now, than have the team confused over miniscule, inconsequential details. "We're simply sharing space, lightening the load," he explained, even as Clint made lascivious faces from the back of the sofa. "Helps the nightmares when there's someone else there." Pepper nodded knowingly from her armchair, still working through her glass of red wine.

"And we know nothing about that, do we Clint?" Natasha's whip-like tone hit Clint where it counted. He blushed, not at all shamed or repentant.

"It's fine, Natasha, Clint. Really," Bruce reassured. Tony remained silent, eyes hard, letting Bruce handle the team. Pepper caught his eye and smiled a warm smile, acknowledging that he'd grown up a little. He gave her a half smile back in understanding and agreement. They still cared about one another, but the new, forced distance had been hard to get used to. They'd had to rearrange how they dealt with each other, no longer believing they were welcome to the same liberties as before.

There wasn't much to his relationship with Bruce to talk about yet, and he wondered if it was time to suggest more. He thought he might be ready, and hoped Bruce was amenable. It was definitely something to think about. And maybe, he could try something tonight, just to test the waters.

Clint had just one more thing to ask, "So, Jolly Green is okay with this arrangement? Because really, you're in as much a threesome as we are."

"So far, so good," Bruce shrugged off any concern about how his other self felt about all of the changes thus far. In truth, Hulk had been more than fine with the arrangement, and that was a relief to Bruce. He'd almost swear Hulk was ebullient in his agreement that he and Tony be together.

"All right, you've teased enough, " Phil said, reaching out to tap Clint on the leg. "Bed."

"Yessir," Clint sarcastically replied, choosing to roll himself backwards off the couch and stand up.

"Show off," Phil stated with a warm smile. He received a youthful, open grin in return.

"Good night gentlemen, Pepper," Natasha said for all three, standing to turn and help Phil reach his feet. The trio left the lounge to a chorus of 'good nights'. Steve, Thor, and Pepper also gave their well wishes, and quietly went their own way.

Once they were alone, Tony sidled up beside Bruce, suddenly unsure of himself, "Can we talk?"

Bruce nodded, and led the way through to the penthouse bedroom. "Sure, what's up?" he asked as he went straight to the en-suite bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes for a quick shower. He left the bathroom door ajar, just in case Tony wanted to join him. He hoped, at least. Something had stirred them both tonight, with the admission of them spending the nights together. He didn't think Tony would share the shower, but perhaps, they'd be in the same room for whatever Tony needed to talk about.

Tonight, Tony sauntered into the bath almost as soon as Bruce was under the luxurious spray of warm water. "You're really okay with our arrangement?" Tony couldn't come to the point if handed a file. Always he had to dance around a subject when it involved exposing his feelings.

"Yeah, of course. It's been good for both of us. Why?" Bruce diligently ignored the desire to look in Tony's direction as he went through the motions of washing. 

"Well, I wondered," Tony fidgeted with a tube of toothpaste, leaning against the marble counter, "Maybe we could try stepping up to the next level?"

"Next level?" Bruce wondered, albeit coyly. Hulk stirred briefly in his mind, practically shoving agreement across their unique link. "Tony," he turned, shampoo still foaming on his head, to look through the half frosted door, catching sight of the bent dark head, as though Tony couldn't bear to see what Bruce thought of him now. "Do you want," this time, his own insecurities flared up. "You want to date? Me?" 

The level of sheer incredulity now present in Bruce's voice brought Tony's head up in a sharp, jerking motion, so that he could stare at Bruce. There was a softness there in his eyes, and a hint of the banked fire that might only need a little bit to stoke into an inferno. Bruce could scarcely believe that inferno might involve him, of all people!

Tony managed not to gape stupidly. Did Bruce not see? How incredible? Warm, caring? Well, that was a job he'd take on, gladly. "Yeah man, you..." Tony had to reach for words that meant something, rather than being his usual callous self, "You are an incredible individual. Hell of a man. One I wouldn't mind spending more time with, out of the lab." The distinction made Bruce snort in amusement, they were always spending the majority of their time in the lab and workshops.

Tony watched as Bruce finished washing up. The shower door hid a goodly portion of Bruce's trim body, but Tony'd seen enough at other times to appreciate what he had. When Bruce was done, and the water shut off, he brought over a large, fluffy, and warm cream colored towel to give to Bruce

He accepted the offered towel through the partially open stall door, and wrapped it around his hips. Another, smaller towel was handed over, and Bruce used that to scrub the excess water off his torso, and out of his hair. Tony nobly refrained from calling him a spaniel, but it was a near thing. The grin on his face made Bruce chuckle. He did quietly appreciate the lines of Bruce's body. No excess anything, except dark colored, wiry hair over most of his torso, arms, and legs.

Bruce watched Tony watching him with a bit of bemusement. "See anything interesting?" he had to tease. Tony actually blushed, caught out in his rapt contemplation. "Okay, we can try," Bruce said, not expecting more of an answer than that adorable blush. He dared to close the brief distance between them, leaning slightly forward, with a tiny tilt to his head, just enough to gently brush slightly damp lips to Tony's dry, chapped ones.

With that one gentle kiss, Tony had to use every ounce of restraint to hold himself back, not wanting to scare Bruce off. They separated, quietly staring into each other's eyes, before Tony darted back in for another, sweetly brief kiss, and then not quite fleeing out of the bathroom. Bruce lingered a little while, marveling over the new feelings taking hold in his heart. He eventually made his way back into the bedroom, to find Tony in bed, but not waiting on anything other than the usual, a brief conversation, and sleep.

Bruce thought, maybe tonight, they'd try and cuddle a little before visiting the land of Nod.

They needed to go slow, both of them so wary of hurting the other, and of the ease with which they could tumble into more than they were ready for. They knew they were good for each other, on multiple levels, but to get to the point of forever, the path was fraught with pitfalls. It scared them both.

Tony wanted this relationship to last, Bruce deserved that much.

Bruce wanted someone to give his whole heart to, and hoped Tony was that person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where do I want to go from here? I got to the initial point I want with this story, that is, Bruce and Tony together. But do I want to strengthen what I have here, or move on to a new story? If you feel like leaving an opinion, go ahead and comment please!
> 
> HIATUS MESSAGE: 3/1/16 I am on hiatus for the foreseeable future to deal with personal stuff. Please don't leave comments asking for updates, they negatively impact my depression recovery. Thank you.


	33. chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce acknowledge the awkwardness of relationships, and how they need to work on theirs. Phil, Clint, and Natasha prepare to hunt for Gen Ross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Last verse, same as the first - do not own, only playing with my toys!
> 
> No specific warnings on this chapter. Enjoy!

Tony had preceded Bruce back into the main room of the suite, going to one of the maple bureaus to change out of his own clothes to a pair of thin, well worn, red flannel pants. He walked over to the bed, and stooped at the head to rearrange the pillows, tossing the decorative ones into a large basket tucked in a corner behind him. He pulled the covers back and slid onto the left side of the mattress with a quiet groan, leaning his back against the headboard.

Bruce eventually followed, but deviated to the huge walk-in closet to find the small pile of clothes he’d brought up weeks ago from his own floor. He dug around in a basket for a pair of cotton pants and pulled them on under the towel, going commando for comfort. Rucking the fabric to his hips, Bruce pulled the towel free and tossed it to the hamper just outside the closet door.

“So,” Bruce said, emerging from the closet. He was unsure now on how to move their relationship forward. In his worry, his hands automatically began dry-washing.

“Quit that and sit down,” Tony said, patting the space next to him. The blankets were invitingly turned down, the pale cream and powder blue soothing in the dark oak of the furniture and restful, pale green walls.

Bruce let out a quiet chuckle and walked over to sit on the bed, his back to Tony for a moment. “You know I’m bad at relationships,” Bruce said, voice hardly more than a whisper. His fingers locked together for a moment, knuckles going white under the strain.

Tony shifted to his knees, and quietly said in warning “I’m moving behind you, Big Guy,” before knee walking across the space to Bruce’s side. “We both are. But, we can be fuck-ups together, huh?” Tony leaned into Bruce’s shoulder.

Another, more self-deprecating chuckle from Bruce. “Yeah, that’s a guarantee.”

“Hey!” Tony mock pouts. He gets a happier laugh from his friend. Boyfriend? Nah, too teeny-bopper. Tony would think about it later. “All right, what’s got you tied up in knots?”

“Everything,” Bruce whispered, as though speaking any louder would make it all crash down around him.

“How do you really feel about the pardon?”

“Right now? Petrified. What if they don’t agree? What if Clint, Natasha, and Phil can’t find Ross? And us?” Bruce unclasped his hands and ran them through his mostly dried hair, fluffing and tangling the curls even more.

Tony reached over and grabbed Bruce’s right hand, arresting the motion of his fingers. “Hey, it will be okay. Those three don’t know what mission failure is. And Rogers won’t give up. You’re stuck with us no matter what happens in this relationship.” Tony’s thumb idly rubbed over the back of Bruce’s hand. The motion relaxed Bruce, who just leaned into Tony with a deep sigh.

“Yeah,” Tony said, letting go of Bruce’s hand to wrap his arm around Bruce’s shoulders. They sat in silence like that for half an hour.

When Bruce cracked two huge jaw popping yawns in quick succession, Tony nudged him hard and Bruce flopped over with the action, crumpling to the bed. 

As Tony got up out of the way of Bruce's legs, he reached for his glasses, gently tugging them free so he wouldn’t crush them. After setting them on the nightstand, he turned back to Bruce and started to shift his partially unresponsive body under the covers, “Let’s get you tucked in Bruce. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“You're starting to spoil me,” Bruce mumbled, his eyes half-closed.

“Yeah, and? Isn't that the point of a relationship?”

“Maybe? Only really had the one, so you know how that went.”

Tony walked around the bed to get back in on his side. “Learn to expect it, Green Bean. Things are gonna be different from now on.”

“If you insist...” 

Tony was sure Bruce wasn't really aware of their conversation anymore. “I do. C’mere,” he offered, settling down and opening his arms in invitation. “We can cuddle.”

“You’re behaving oddly,” Bruce commented, sounding slightly more awake as he shuffled over the open space of the bed into Tony’s embrace.

“Can’t I be nice to someone who’s had a shit run of luck lately?”

“Hmpf. I’m not made of glass, Tony.”

“Heh, yeah no. I know that.”

Comfortably slotted together, Bruce began to relax into the warmth of Tony's body. He yawned before responding in a mumble, “We’re gonna have to go slow.”

“Sleep now, we’ll figure it out.”

“Mhm,” Bruce grunted, drifting off to the faint hum of the arc reactor.

&&&&

Down a few levels from the penthouse in the Tower, Phil, Clint, and Natasha spent time working on gathering initial intel and going over their weapons, making them ready for action. Phil called in a favor from Jasper Sitwell, and had him divert some surveillance to finding General Ross.

“So, the wunderkind duo, together forever?” Clint said in a teasing way, as he checked his bow over for damage, ensconced on a leather arm chair, the quiver at his feet.

“They’ll be good for each other,” Natasha offered from the coffee table. She sat on the carpet, using the table to hold her guns, Widows Bite bracelets, and assorted cleaning supplies.

“Really?” Clint asked, checking the riser and connection points on the breakdown composite bow.

Natasha shrugged. “They appear to balance each other’s issues out. Didn’t they say they’d been sleeping together since they’d been at the mansion?”

Clint nodded, distracted in his task of checking the pair of bow strings kept in a waterproof pouch for fraying.

Phil, over at their dining table, was working on an encrypted laptop making all their travel itineraries, hummed, showing he was paying attention, but currently had no comment.

“Have you noticed that Tony looks more rested, and even Bruce looks relaxed?”, she added, checking on the sharpness of a couple of knives.

“Well no, not really,” Clint admitted, putting the bow in its case and picking up the quiver to check the arrows.

“Still true,” Natasha said, buttoning the knives back into their sheathes. “They share similar demons, and I believe Tony might have finally grown up.”

“Tony never needed to grow up, Natasha, but he did need to learn to trust again. And I'm done here. We leave tomorrow for Culver University at 9am,” Phil said, standing and carefully stretching. His scar still pulled if he wasn’t careful, though his partners took pains to make sure the skin stayed supple enough through massage to not cause pain. He'd get most of his range of motion back, but for now, his partners did all the heavy lifting.

“Give us ten more minutes, beloved, and we’ll go to bed,” Natasha said, estimating the last of her work. Clint nodded agreement with that, and Phil went into the kitchen to prepare for morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, it's been awhile. Thanks for sticking with me. Gosh, I can't believe I let this go for a year and a bit. I'm sorry for that. Depression sucks. And if you suffer from it, or think someone you know might suffer from it, please, I implore you from the bottom of my heart, get help. Even come to me here in my comments and say you need help, and we'll get you some.
> 
> This is the end of this particular arc of Vital Communication, the series. There will probably be more, but I want to play with other stuff for awhile. Thanks for being with me on this rollercoaster!

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what my update schedule will be. I am hoping to keep at least 3 chapters written ahead of posting, but that all depends on me and the Muse. I am dual posting on FFNet as well as here, same pseudonym. Also please realize that I write long hand (yes that means on paper), then type the mess into a digital file before posting. All that takes time. Please bear with me if things get slow. Reviews are welcome, constructive criticisms as well; flames are ignored.


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